Arthur Goes Fifth V: The Brain Identity
by Dead Composer
Summary: His terrible secret revealed, Brain must leave behind family, friends, and everything he knows. Only one person can help him: Lisa Simpson. Crossover with The Simpsons.
1. Lisa and Frink

Disclaimer: When I say it's the "final episode", I don't mean it.

* * *

It was a slow day, so slow that the police officers of Elwood City thought crime might have taken a holiday.

"This reminds me of March, when the whole city became nice for two weeks," said Officer Pinsky, a shaggy-haired poodle woman, as she paced back and forth in the police headquarters.

Her partner, Officer Jones, sat on a wooden chair, her lanky legs resting on another chair. The uniformed cat woman chuckled at the comic book in her hands.

"What's so funny?" asked Pinsky in an aggravated voice.

"The Fantastic Four," replied Jones with a grin. "They always crack me up."

Pinsky only grunted.

A moment later, two anxious-looking bear people stepped into the reception area. "Pardon me, officers," said the woman. "We have a bit of a problem with…with our children."

Pinsky stood stiffly. Jones lowered her comic book. "Social services, three blocks to the west," said Pinsky glibly.

"No, it's not that," said the man, who was wringing his hands. "Our children are…well, we lost them."

The woman spread out a stack of papers and photographs on the reception desk. "The girl's name is Tegan," she said, her voice quivering. "The boy's name is Alan. According to the birth certificates, Tegan is fourteen and Alan is ten."

Officer Jones rose slowly to her feet. She and her partner stared blankly at Mr. and Mrs. Powers for a second.

"Er, you don't need to show us their birth certificates," said Jones. "But the photos will be very helpful."

"There's more to it than that, officer," said Mr. Powers hesitantly. "We last saw Tegan last month, but we can't remember where she is, or how to get there."

"And Alan…" A tear fell down Mrs. Powers' cheek. "We can't remember Alan at all. We only know he's our son because of the pictures, and the certificate, and…and the report cards. I can't even remember giving birth to him."

Pinsky's ears flopped as she turned to look at Jones.

"We think government agents tampered with our memories as part of a conspiracy involving our children," said Mr. Powers. "Can you help us find them?"

"Uh, government conspiracies are outside of our jurisdiction," said Pinsky. "But we know someone else who can help you."

* * *

On a Monday morning in the middle of October, the corridors of Lakewood Elementary were decorated with papers and posters. Some featured a picture of a bear boy and the caption, MISSING: ALAN WAYNE POWERS. Others announced a weekend party in the gymnasium to raise funds for the construction of a new school auditorium.

Many of the children in Mrs. Krantz' fifth-grade class were in a somber mood. "I hope Alan's all right, wherever he is," said Francine to Fern.

"I'm worried about him too," said Fern wistfully.

"I still remember when you kissed him at the Wynton Marsalis concert a year ago," said Francine with a smile. "Do you still like him?"

"That _was_ a year ago," said Fern without emotion.

Muffy walked into the classroom, her lips frozen in a scowl.

"Hey, Arthur," said Buster, "is your dad gonna cater the fund-raiser next week?"

"Nope," Arthur replied. "Mr. Haney said that would a conflict of interest, whatever that is."

Muffy laid her arms on top of her desk and sighed dolefully. Nobody noticed.

"Maybe Alan told Prunella where he was going, but she forgot the next day," Binky theorized.

"The aliens are behind it all," said George. "All of this could've been avoided if you'd listened to my warnings."

"You're a silly goose, George," said Beat.

The kids in Mrs. Krantz' class—Arthur, Francine, Buster, Fern, Zeke, Muffy, Binky, Sue Ellen, Van, and Beat—quickly fell silent when a pair of odd-looking creatures entered the room. One was a girl with pointy yellow hair and round, inquisitive eyes, clad in a red dress and pearl necklace. The other looked more like a walking test tube than a man. He wore thick glasses, pink jeans, a white smock, and a bowtie, and a clump of unruly brown hair sat on his head. Both had only four fingers on each hand.

Even Muffy smiled when she recognized the girl. "It's…it's Lisa Simpson!"

"Lisa who?" was Zeke's response.

"You weren't around," Sue Ellen told him. "She was in our third-grade class for a month."

"Hey, Lisa, welcome back!" Binky called out.

Lisa waved and showed her teeth. "I remember you, Binky. You kicked my brother's butt."

So enthusiastic were the kids' greetings to Lisa that Mrs. Krantz held out her arms to silence them. "Students, we have some special guests from Springfield today," the moose woman announced. "Let's give a warm Elwood City welcome to Lisa Simpson and Professor John Frink, okaaaay?"

The children burst into loud applause. "Quiet, please," said Mrs. Krantz firmly.

Lisa assumed a central position in front of the students, and bashfully put her hands behind her back. "Uh, many of you know me and my brother Bart, because we came to your school two years ago. Now I have a job as a laboratory assistant."

"Cool," Buster blurted out.

"Oh, it's nothing exciting," Lisa went on. "It's mainly just carrying around vats of toxic chemicals, and volunteering for genetic experiments."

"Er, Lisa did not say 'genetic' experiments," the smock-clad man chimed in. "She clearly said 'generic' experiments, in order to express the routine nature of her tasks, with the tube-washing and the note-taking and the coffee-bringing, ng'hoy, glavin."

"Professor Frink is going to explain to you the principle of how a spring works," said Lisa as the bespectacled scientist pulled a Slinky from his smock pocket.

"It's really quite simple," said Frink, bouncing the spring between his hands. "You multiply the spring constant _k_ by the length of the spring _x_ to obtain the magnitude of the force applied by the…hey, this is loads of fun!"

"Can I have a turn?" asked Van.

"I'm afraid not, wheelie-duck," Frink replied. "You can't possibly enjoy it on as many levels as I do, with the hoyven and the glavin…"

"Uh, Professor," said Lisa, "I think the kids would like to hear some hard scientific facts."

"Oh, very well," said Frink, dropping the now-tangled Slinky into his pocket. "There is no God, the universe is a result of blind chance, you all evolved from monkeys, and some of you still look like monkeys. Frink out."

While the professor ducked out of the classroom, Lisa sat down at a desk and shook hands with Arthur and Francine. "I'm glad to finally meet you," Beat whispered to her. "Are the legends of your intelligence true?"

Unseen to them, Professor Frink strolled through the back entrance of the school and stepped behind a nearby bush. Pulling up his smock with one hand, he plucked a cell phone from his belt with the other.

He dialed a number, glancing about to ensure no one was watching. "She's here," he spoke quietly into the phone.

* * *

to be continued 


	2. The Transfer

In the girls' washroom, Lisa asked Beat the question that had burned in her mind since first seeing the rabbit-aardvark girl.

"Are they…real?"

With a wordless grin, Beat pulled out her neckline and allowed Lisa to see what was concealed behind her red dress.

"Oh, my Buddha," said Lisa in wonder. "They _are_ real."

"Yes," said Beat with a nod. "Unfortunately, I'm too young to do anything with them."

"I've seen all kinds of things in Springfield," Lisa mused. "A crazy lady who throws cats at everyone who passes by, an old man who's been killed a dozen times, and twin girls who keep switching between my age and Bart's age. But I've never seen a little girl…develop early. What's it like?"

"Frustrating," Beat replied. "The boys stare at me, the girls make fun of me, and my mum has to remind me every morning to strap on my bloody training bra."

"Geez, that's tough," said Lisa sympathetically. "But you should see what I have to put up with as the class brain."

Beat only sighed.

The other kids were enjoying morning recess in the playground or the verdant lawns that surrounded the school building. Muffy, sitting on a bench in the center court and frowning miserably, was one of the few exceptions.

Binky noticed her sad expression and asked, "What's the matter, Muffy?"

"I don't want to talk about it," the monkey girl grumbled.

Binky shrugged and walked away, soon replaced by the concerned George. "What's wrong, Muffy?" he inquired.

Again Muffy responded with, "I don't want to talk about it."

Shortly after George had gone, Van rolled up to her in his motorized wheelchair. "What's eating you, Muffy?"

Muffy gave him a doleful look. "I'll tell you," she said, "since you're an honorary girl."

"I'm all ears," said Van, who was a duck and had no visible ears.

Muffy's eyes misted up. "My limo is dead," she said plaintively.

"Dead?" said Van incredulously. "What happened? Did the engine blow up?"

Muffy shook her head. "It drowned."

Van's eyes widened.

"My parents took me to the opera in Crown City," Muffy recounted. "Rodney Gilfrey was playing the lead in _I Pagliacci_. That's Italian for _I, Clown_. It was about a clown who killed his wife because she cheated on…uh, some kind of game, and he was a really, really bad sport. There was another opera after that, a short one. It was already over when I woke up. Then we went back to the parking garage, and there was water pouring down the street, and the policemen wouldn't let us go to our car because the garage was flooded." Tears began to trickle down Muffy's cheeks. "My dad was really angry. He said a lot of soap words. We had to stay the night at a hotel, because the limo was floating around in the water with a bunch of other cars."

Van lowered his head. "Gosh, Muffy, I'm sorry."

"Don't ever drown, Van," said Muffy, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. "It's a horrible way to die."

"I'm a duck, Muffy," Van reminded her.

"My dad says he'll buy a new limo," Muffy went on. "But it won't be the same. It'll be like riding around in a stranger."

"Cars die, Muffy," said Van comfortingly. "It happens."

"I know," said Muffy, sniffling. "But why did it have to happen to _my_ car?"

Not far away, Fern and Arthur were engaged in a fervent debate.

"You can't be serious," said Fern. "Mrs. McGrady is totally off her rocker. Remember when she mixed the quarters into the brownies two years ago? You were almost sent to jail because of her."

"She's a good cook," said Arthur.

"So's your dad," said Fern.

"My dad's been really busy ever since the Chanels hired him," Arthur countered. "Sure, he'll cater the party for free if I ask him, but he shouldn't have to work so hard."

"Fine," said Fern, throwing up her hands. "When we all get sick from quarter poisoning, you'll be the one who gets sued."

"Fine," said Arthur flatly.

Having concluded that political power had made Arthur unreasonable, Fern marched away. She was almost to the school's side entrance when Professor Frink approached her.

"Excuse me, little fluffy girl," he said in an excited tone. "You look like an inquisitive child individual, and I would like to invite you to assist me in the performance of a scientific experiment, ng'hoy."

Fern smiled. "That sounds like fun, Professor, but isn't Lisa Simpson your assistant?"

"Indeed she is," said Frink, straightening his bowtie. "However, as glavin would have it, she is currently frolicking with her peers, and is unable to help."

"I'd love to," said Fern eagerly.

"Then follow me," said Frink.

He led Fern to the parking lot on the west side of the school, whereon sat a pink sedan with a solar panel and satellite dish bolted to the top. "Now be a good dog," he instructed her, "and fetch me the control console from the trunk of my car."

"What does it look like?" asked Fern.

"It's patterned after the console used by Captain Kirk to deactivate the Klingon doomsday device in episode 4.11 of the original _Star Trek_ series, which you will surely agree is the best series in the franchise so far."

Fern gave him a glazed look.

"It's the only item in the trunk," Frink told her.

Armed with this knowledge, Fern strolled to the back of the pink vehicle and found that the trunk had already been opened. The inside, however, was completely bare.

"Er, Professor," she began, "there's nothing in the…"

As she spoke, a pair of strong hands grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the pavement. "Professor!" she cried out, but Frink only stood still and grinned.

She twisted her head in an attempt to see the face of the attacker who was shoving her into the trunk, but there appeared to be no one behind her. By the time she could manage a scream, the lid was already closing, cutting off the light of the sun.

"Help! Help me!" she cried through the darkness, pounding against the metal walls. Sudden vibrations told her that the engine was starting. There was little noise, no doubt due to the fact that Frink's car was solar-powered.

The car pulled out of the school lot as Fern lay helpless in the trunk, wondering what strange fate would come upon her. She was afraid, but not as much as when Mansch's henchmen had kidnapped her several weeks earlier. _Why would Professor Frink of all people want to hurt me?_ she thought. _Could this be part of the experiment he was talking about?_

The car traveled several blocks, and Fern became more worried about missing gym class than about her unexplained abduction.

* * *

More than two hundred miles away, a bedraggled-looking bear boy stepped off a city bus and shuffled into a convenience store. So hungry was he that even the stale pastries in the display case tempted him. As he browsed the merchandise, a dark-skinned Indian man appeared behind the counter.

"May I help you, little boy?" said Apu Nahasapeemapetilon.

Alan moved down the aisle, pretending not to have heard.

"There is a cold wind today," Apu told him. "You should put on a sweater."

The boy picked up a small bag of tortilla chips, regarded them, and licked his lips. Without a word to the clerk, he began to walk toward the automatic doors.

"I hope you are intending to pay for that, young man," said Apu firmly.

_You don't remember seeing me take the chips,_ thought Alan, tucking the bag under his shirt.

A confused expression passed over Apu's face, followed quickly by a smile. "Thank you, come again," he said, waving at the departing boy.

* * *

The sedan slowed to a stop, and Fern heard the sound of a garage door closing. Moments later the trunk lid flew up, and she saw a familiar face smiling upon her.

"How are you doing in there?" asked a curly-haired cat girl in her early teens.

"April!" Fern blurted out. "What…what are you…"

"Relax," said April Murphy, sticking out a hand for her to take. "You'll understand soon."

As she allowed April to gently pull her out of the trunk, she recalled the suspicions she had once harbored about the older girl. A duplicate of Sue Ellen from several years in the future, she had jumped through time to assist the sorceress Augusta Winslow in a risky scheme that would supposedly prevent the murder of her parents. Whether she had succeeded at this or not, or whether her parents were ever in real danger, depended on whom one asked. It was all quite confusing.

"I was perfectly willing to help Frink with his experiment," said Fern as April led her through a door into a somewhat messy kitchen. "You didn't have to go through this rigamarole."

"Yes, we did," said April curtly.

In the living room sat five individuals who seemed very pleased to see Fern. They included Professor Frink, Alan's old classmate C.V. Oberlin, a teenaged bear girl who wore a barrette over her short brown hair, a black-haired bulldog girl, a poodle boy, and an orange-haired rabbit girl. Fern winced, remembering the terror C.V. had once brought to Lakewood Elementary with his fear-inducing powers.

"Sit down, Fern," said Frink, and the poodle girl took advantage of a rocking chair. "I'd like you to meet the Brainchildren. This is Tegan Powers, who can merge telepathically with other people, and plant memories in their minds."

Fern's mouth fell open. "You're…Alan's sister?"

Tegan nodded.

"This is Claire Dieudonné, a telekinetic," said Frink, gesturing at the rabbit girl. "Victor Talbot," he added, waving his hand at the poodle boy, "who possesses hyper-enhanced senses. Iris Hatch, a telepath. And you already know C.V."

"What's this all about?" Fern asked him.

"It's about my brother Alan," Tegan answered for the scientist. "He also has special powers—the ability to erase memories. His place is with us, but he hasn't accepted that yet. We need your help to find him."

Fern scowled incredulously. "First of all, I have no idea where he is. Second, I don't know why you need my help if you all have super powers. Third, I'm late for gym class. Can I go now?"

Tegan rose to her feet. "Don't be afraid," she said while stepping toward Fern and raising one hand to her barrette. "What I'm about to do to you, Alan can easily reverse—provided that he cooperates."

Fern gazed into the girl's determined eyes. The barrette slid halfway down Tegan's scalp, and the barrier between her mind and Fern's began to dissolve…

_Your daughter will be well cared for at Ballford Prep. We have excellent teachers, a cafeteria with a diverse selection of ethnic foods…_

_I love Tegan as much as I love life itself, but her gift has to be kept a secret, no matter what the cost…_

_Hello, Professor Frink. My name is Tegan. I love having visitors, since I don't get out much…_

_Yes, I'm a jewel thief…I'm guilty of many crimes. But what about the criminals who are holding you prisoner? Why do they go unpunished?..._

Three minutes passed. The swirling confusion in Fern's mind gave way to placid acceptance.

Tegan pushed her barrette to the top of her head. "How do you feel?" she asked the poodle girl.

Fern's lips spread into a smile. She looked down at her hands, then reached up and touched her hair, her ears, her nose.

"The transfer was a success," she said in a satisfied tone. "Alan won't escape us now."

* * *

to be continued 


	3. Third Degree Fern

"I hope he doesn't," said April, tossing a sapphire-colored stone up and down. "The sooner we get him back, the sooner we can think about rescuing my parents."

"Your…parents…" stammered Fern, a look of concern on her face.

"Are you all right?" asked Tegan, resting a hand underneath her chin.

"Er, yes," said Fern with sudden calm. "Just a bit unsettled."

"That's understandable," said Tegan.

"Just a minute, April," Victor chimed in. "Your parents are prisoners in outer space. We can't just walk there and break them out."

"Buster was stuck on another planet," April pointed out, "and we rescued him."

"I'm sure we'll find a way," said Tegan.

Even with Tegan's personality sharing her brain, Fern was anxious to get to gym class before it ended. Frink obligingly drove her to the school, and this time she sat on the passenger side.

"It's going easier than I expected," said Fern, her head craned sideways against the seat. "I thought Fern would put up more resistance, since she's so strong-willed."

"I'm impressed," Frink remarked. "It's hard enough for two people to get along when they inhabit _separate_ bodies. Just ask my ex-wife."

Mrs. Taylor, the gym teacher, wasn't so impressed. The girls were already showering when Fern arrived. "Miss Walters, you're late," the teacher scolded.

"It won't happen again," said Fern in a mature tone.

"Excuses, excuses," said Mrs. Taylor peevishly.

Fern leaned against a wall and gazed at the other girls as they put on their street clothes. The Tegan part of her marveled that they were the same age and size as her. _I've turned into another person_, she thought. _I've got three more years before I have to deal with puberty again_. _I could stay like this…but that would mean taking Fern's life away._

She peered into Mrs. Taylor's office, where a morning newspaper lay on the desk. The headline declared, CROWN CITY CLEANS UP AFTER WATER MAIN RUPTURE. _I'm ten years old, and I can read at an adult level_, she mused. _This is the most amazing thing that's ever happened to me._

During the lunch break, she searched the cafeteria for the one person she most wanted to speak to—Prunella. The rat girl had set down her tray on a bare table, and no one had joined her yet.

"Hi, Prunella," she said while taking a seat.

"Hi, Fern," Prunella responded. "Where's your lunch?"

Fern's friendly visage became serious. "I'm not hungry. I'm more interested in knowing where Alan is."

Prunella shook her head. "I wish I knew."

"You'd better not be holding out on me," said Fern in a half-whisper. "You were there when he turned Ray Mansch's mind into a blank slate. You know how dangerous he is."

Prunella began to tremble nervously.

"If the Brainchildren don't find him, the police will," Fern went on. "And then he'll spend the rest of his life in a cell, cut off from his family and friends. Is that what you want?"

Her face pallid, Prunella lurched to her feet and shuffled away, leaving her lunch behind.

Fern sighed with frustration. _Oh, Alan_, she thought bitterly. _I wish none of this was necessary. I wish someone else had been cursed with these powers…_

"Hey, Fern," said Lisa, sitting down across from her with a plate of salad. "I missed you during gymnastics."

"Sorry," said Fern flatly.

"It's okay," said Lisa with a grin. "You didn't get to see how uncoordinated I am."

"I don't suppose you know anything about the whereabouts of Alan Powers," said Fern.

Lisa stuffed her mouth with arugula lettuce, then answered. "I couldn't believe it when I heard he was missing. I was looking forward to seeing him again. He's such a nice boy, and smart, too."

"And what am I, chopped liver?" said Beat, who had arrived at the table with her tray of meat loaf and pudding.

"Of course not, Beatrice," said Lisa. "You're even cooler than Alan, because you're a girl."

"You don't look like a rabbit," said Beat, looking over Lisa's salad.

"I'm a vegetarian," Lisa told her.

"There are treatments for that," Beat joked.

As the cafeteria began to empty, Arthur and Buster held a brief conference with Mrs. McGrady behind the lunch counter. "I think six dozen brownies should be plenty," said Arthur.

"I'll prepare them in the school kitchen on Saturday afternoon," Mrs. McGrady pledged.

"And one other thing," said Buster. "No quarters this time."

Mrs. McGrady rolled her eyes. "Thirty-four years of faithful service to this school, and all I'm remembered for is the quarters," she grumbled.

As Buster walked off, he felt a pair of fingers pinching his ear. "Hey, Buster," Fern greeted him.

"Uh, hi, Fern," said Buster warily. "Prunella says I'm not supposed to talk to you, because you're possessed, or something like that."

"The only thing I'm possessed with is the desire to find Alan," said Fern earnestly. "You and I need to put our heads together. We're the Fernbusters, remember?"

"Of course we are," said Buster. "But you're so busy with your Mini Moo job, you don't have any time left for detective work."

_Right_, thought Fern. _That recording thing I do on weeknights_.

"I'll make the time," she promised. "See you tonight, Buster."

She strolled away, catching a glimpse of Prunella at the other end of the lunchroom. The rat girl eyed her suspiciously. _She's the key to it all_, Fern told herself. _This would be so much easier if she hadn't suddenly developed a resistance to telepathy._

* * *

to be continued 


	4. Wyatt Returns

In the lowly Crosswire condominium, Muffy was browsing the web in earnest when the doorbell rang. She welcomed in her good friends Francine, Jenna, Van, and Beat.

"We heard what happened to your car," said Francine, "so we girls and honorary girls decided to come over and throw you a pity party."

"That's very kind of you," said Muffy. "Sit down, and I'll ask my mom to bring some treats."

Francine shot her a worried grimace.

"Store-bought treats," Muffy clarified.

"What a relief," said Van as he rolled into a corner.

"It's not that your mum can't cook," Beat said to Muffy. "It's just that…no matter what kind of cake she sets out to prepare, it ends up as black bottom cake."

"It's her specialty," said Muffy with a hint of sarcasm.

Francine and Jenna stepped forward. "We made a memorial for your limo in pottery class," said Jenna, holding up a monolithic clay sculpture. The face featured a drawing of a limousine and the words _in memoriam_.

"Oh, how thoughtful!" said Muffy, clasping her hands. "I'll put it on the dashboard of our new Lincoln Continental Mark VIII."

"Your dad bought a new limo already?" said Francine curiously.

"No," Muffy replied. "But I've been looking at all the different kinds of limousines on the Internet, and that's the one I want."

"Then you'll have to settle for a used one," said Mr. Crosswire, who was listening from the doorway to his bedroom. "Lincoln isn't producing Mark VIIIs anymore."

"Are you sure that's safe?" Beat asked Muffy. "President John F. Kennedy was assassinated while riding in a Lincoln Continental."

"Omigosh," said Muffy. "Is he okay?"

"I'm surprised you know that," Jenna remarked to Beat. "You're not even from this country. How did you get so smart?"

"It's a gift," said Beat, "and a curse."

"Speaking of smart," said Francine, "did you notice how Fern was answering more questions in class than usual?"

"Yeah, I noticed," said Van.

"She was acting differently as well," Beat recalled. "She was more serious and self-assured. She reminded me of myself when I was possessed by Mr. Putnam."

"You were…possessed?" Jenna marveled.

"It was part of a scientific experiment," Beat told her. "Mr. Putnam invented a device that would allow him to duplicate his consciousness in the mind of another person."

"It's like being two people at the same time," said Francine. "I had Sue Ellen in my head for a whole year."

"That's weird," said Jenna.

"I suppose things like that never happen to the kids in your class," said Francine to the cat girl.

"Nope," said Jenna in a carefree tone. "Just homework and tests. It's boring."

_They'll never believe me if I tell them about the field trip where we were locked up in a Guatemalan prison for three days_, she thought. _I could have broken out at any time, but I didn't want to reveal to my friends that I am really…Radioactive Squid Woman!_

"You don't suppose Fern's possessed," said Van suspiciously.

"By who?" said Muffy with a grin. "Professor Frink?"

"If that were true, she'd say _glavin_ all the time," said Francine, chuckling.

"That must be an American expression," said Beat. "I never heard it in England. What does it mean?"

* * *

While Van and the girls were struggling to find a definition for the mysterious word _glavin_, Fern was sitting calmly in the reception area of Marymu Studios, where _New Moo Revue_ and other quality children's programs were produced. The two personalities within her mind, her own and Tegan's, continued to debate whether her decision was correct, but Tegan's arguments were better reasoned and more convincing. Hence, she was determined to put an end to a chapter of her life.

Through the glass doors stepped a poodle boy who wore thick glasses. He appeared to be a year younger than Fern, who smiled gleefully at the sight of him.

"Good to see you again, Wyatt," she said without rising.

"Yeah, long time no see," the boy responded. "So what did you want? My moms are waiting in the car."

"They'll be waiting for a long time," said Fern, leaping to her feet. Wyatt tried to wiggle free while she dragged him by the hand through the corridor that led to the sound stage.

On the gaudily-colored set that resembled a country garden, four young children were seated on chairs to one side. They chatted about their favorite sports teams and pop singers while awaiting the arrival of Mary Moo Cow and her entourage.

"I'm tellin' ya, there's no way the Elwood City Grebes can beat the Pittsburgh Pirates," said one of the boys.

"The Pirates?" retorted a girl. "Are you kiddin'? The only thing the Pirates are good at is recognizin' talent…and sellin' it to other teams."

"One dollar says the Pirates'll win," said the boy, flashing a bill.

"That's chump change," the girl countered. "Make it five dollars."

"Places, everyone," came a woman's commanding voice. Jean Stiles had arrived on the set, dressed neck to toe in her Mary Moo Cow costume, clutching the bulky cow's head mask under her arm. Behind her, Binky was practicing a grand jeté inside his Mini Moo suit.

As the child actors assumed their positions under the hot lights, Mrs. Stiles looked over at the recording booth. "Where's Fern?" she asked Binky.

"I dunno," the boy answered. "She said she was waiting for someone."

An instant later Fern burst through the stage door, the reluctant Wyatt in tow. "Here I am," she informed Mrs. Stiles.

While the polar bear woman attached the Mary Moo Cow head to her body, Binky pulled off his clownish mask to have a better look at the visiting boy. "Who's the dork?" he asked Fern.

"His name's Wyatt Holberg," Fern explained. "I met him when we were trying out for the Mini Moo voice role. And he's not a dork."

Binky shrugged. "Whatever."

"Get ready to record, Fern," said Mrs. Stiles, waving her thick cow hand.

"Not this time," said the poodle girl. "I'm quitting the show."

Binky and Mrs. Stiles glared at her.

"From now on, the voice of Mini Moo will be provided by Wyatt," Fern announced.

The bespectacled boy's jaw echoed as it hit the floor.

"Let's get serious, Fern," said Mrs. Stiles, her voice dying from the speakers as she removed her cow head. "We have an episode to make."

"It was a pleasure working with you, Jean," said Fern in a sober tone.

As she strode off the stage, Binky walked closer to Wyatt and eyed him inquisitively. "So," he asked, "do you like wrestling?"

* * *

to be continued 


	5. Grand Theft Bicycle

Taking leave of Marymu Studios, Fern boarded a city bus and returned to her neighborhood. Her search for Buster led her to Arthur's house, where the rabbit and aardvark boys were playing computer games.

"This one's called _Grand Theft Bicycle_," Arthur told his friend. "The object is to steal the bikes from all the kids on the block. If they get in your way, you shoot them with spitballs."

"Cool," said Buster. "I can't wait until I'm sixteen and get to use bullets."

A discordant sound hit Arthur's ears. "D.W.!" he called out. "Cut out that racket!"

"I can't," his sister yelled back. "I have to get ready for my first piano lesson with Dr. Fugue tomorrow."

"If Dr. Fugue hears you play like that," said Arthur, "he'll tear you a new…"

"Hey, Buster," Fern interrupted.

The two boys paused their game upon seeing that the poodle girl had arrived.

"Hey, shouldn't you be at the studio?" Buster asked her.

"I quit," said Fern as she plopped down on the couch.

"Quit?" said Arthur, jumping to his feet. "Why?"

"I felt like it," said Fern with a slight shrug.

"I guess it was taking up too much of your time, huh?" said Buster.

"How did Mrs. Stiles react?" asked Arthur.

"I don't know," said Fern indifferently. "But I found a kid to replace me, and he sings as well as I do."

"He?" said Buster with surprise. "I thought Mini Moo was a girl."

"A boy doing the voice of a girl character?" commented D.W. from the piano bench. "That's just sick and wrong."

"Anyway," said Fern to Buster in a slightly seductive tone, "you and I need to turn our attention to finding my brother…I mean, Alan."

"Okay," said Buster, taking a seat next to her. "Let's start from the beginning. The Belnaps moved into the old Tibble house—a lady and her triplet girls. Amy Belnap and I became an item, until Mickie's party, where Mr. England tried to take Zeke away at gunpoint. Amy told me she was an alien, and she dragged me off to her planet, because she wanted to marry me. Then Alan, Tegan, Sue Ellen, and April came to rescue me. Sue Ellen and April had a big fight with Amy, then Alan and Tegan used some sort of weird mind powers to make me and Amy switch bodies. I was afraid I'd be stuck as a girl—not that there's anything wrong with that—because Amy didn't want to go back to her own body. But Alan had an idea. He sent Sue Ellen and April to Earth to pick up Dudley Green, who used to be a girl and wanted to be one again. So Alan and Tegan made Amy and Dudley switch bodies, and they were both happy. The next day Prunella came back, and her memory problem was fixed—but the Belnaps were gone, and so was Alan. His parents didn't even remember who he was."

Fern, who had been slowly nodding, chimed in. "It's possible someone tampered with their memories—but who would be capable of that? You said Alan and Tegan had mind powers, so they're suspects. Also, Dudley…er, Dolly used to have magical powers, so she's a suspect as well."

"And let's not forget Dark Augusta," Buster added. "Who knows if she's really dead?"

"I'm glad you don't blame everything on aliens anymore," said Fern, gazing at the rabbit boy with affection.

"Yeah," said Buster. "Meeting real aliens sorta took the fun out of it."

* * *

Mrs. Stiles greeted Wyatt with a broad smile as he left the recording booth. "You did an excellent job," she told him. "Now that Fern's out, are you available for the rest of the season?"

"I'll have to check with my moms," Wyatt replied, "but I don't imagine they'll have a problem with it. They always encourage my artistic pursuits."

"Then be here the same time tomorrow," said Mrs. Stiles, patting his shoulder. "Welcome to the Moo Crew, Wyatt."

Binky accompanied the boy as he walked toward the downtown parking garage. "I don't get why Fern quit," he mused, "but it was nice of her to bring you in."

"Yeah, I was surprised," said Wyatt. "I hadn't seen or heard from her since the audition."

"You and her don't have a thing going, do you?" asked Binky curiously.

Wyatt swallowed. "You mean…some sort of boyfriend-girlfriend thing?"

"Yeah," said Binky.

"No, we don't," said Wyatt.

"Too bad," said Binky, grinning. "She's a cool girl."

"Yeah, she is," Wyatt agreed. "But I'm not interested in girls."

"Too young for that, eh?" said Binky with a chuckle.

"No, it's not because of my age," answered Wyatt. "It's because I'm gay."

The shock almost made Binky bite his tongue.

"You're…you're _gay?_" he stammered.

"Uh-huh," said Wyatt calmly.

_No wonder he likes pro wrestling so much_, thought Binky.

"That's not a problem, is it?" said Wyatt.

"Er, no," Binky replied. "It's none of my business if you find other boys attractive." He put on a menacing glare. "Just don't find _me _attractive, because I have a girlfriend, and she can beat you up."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Wyatt assured him.

The two boys shared no more words as Binky followed Wyatt to the car where two women with heavily pierced ears and short hair waited. "See ya tomorrow," said Binky, waving the boy off.

_I'm gonna have to work with that kid_, he thought as the car drove away. _I'd better ask my folks if that's all right._

* * *

Late that evening, Lisa and Professor Frink pulled to the curb at 742 Evergreen Terrace in Springfield. "Thanks for the ride, Professor," said Lisa, strapping her bag over her shoulder.

"And thank you for coming along, lab helper girl," said Frink. "I learned things about the Slinky that I never imagined. Bring a Rubik's Cube next time, will you? Ng'hoy."

"Goodbye, Professor," said Lisa. The pink sedan rolled away as she hurried to the front door of her house.

The only light she saw through the window was the television—not unusual. She entered and tiptoed into the living room. There were only two sounds—the heavy snoring of Homer and Bart on the couch, and the droning of an infomercial.

"Hi, I'm Troy McClure. You may remember me from such infomercials as _Never Crack Open Another Coconut!_ and _Stop Getting Ripped Off By Your Spiritual Leaders_…"

Up the stairway she tiptoed, determined to write a few lines in her journal and then sleep restfully. While passing by the doorway to Bart's room, she noticed something odd.

_Someone's in Bart's bed_, she realized, _but it's not Bart_.

The temptation was too strong to resist—she had to know who it was. _Maybe it's Milhouse_, she thought as she stepped closer to the child-sized lump on the bed. _Sometimes he sleeps here when he's had too many squishees. Or…could it be a girl? Does Bart have a new girlfriend? Jessica Lovejoy? Greta Wolfcastle? Sherri and Terri? Or maybe that new girl, Jenda…_

Suddenly the bed's occupant bolted upright and turned to face her. "Don't do that!" the frightened boy commanded. "Don't surprise me!"

Lisa rubbed her eyes, startled at the sight of an old friend who had apparently gone many days without eating much.

"Alan?" she marveled. "Alan Powers?"

* * *

As usual…to be continued!

(A/N: Congrats to "insert brain here" for catching my Monk reference.)

(Another A/N: There will be no slash in this story.)


	6. Fern and Buster Sitting in a Tree

"Not so loud, Lisa," said Alan nervously. "No one must know I'm here."

"Not even my family?" said Lisa, a bit alarmed.

"They already know," Alan told her. "Do you think I could sneak into Bart's room and put on a pair of his pajamas without them knowing? Actually, I could."

"Why are you here?" asked Lisa. "All the kids at your school are worried half to death about you."

Alan slid out of his bed, his bare feet hitting the floor quietly. "I'm in great danger," he said ominously. "If my parents or the police find me, they'll lock me up. If the Brainchildren find me, they'll force me to join them."

"Brainchildren?" said Lisa in confusion. "Who are they?"

"A group of kids with mental powers," Alan replied. "One of them is my sister."

"I didn't know you had a sister," said Lisa.

"Neither did I," said Alan with a shrug. "The government shut her up to keep her powers a secret. She can change the personalities of other people by planting memories in their minds. She tried to do it to me, to make me one of them."

"Why do they want you?" Lisa wondered. "Do you have mental powers?"

"Yes." Alan lowered his face. "I can erase memories. I erased the mind of their leader by accident. I…I reduced him to the level of an infant."

Lisa shook her head. "This is getting really weird. Show me your powers, and then I'll believe you."

"You don't know what you're asking," said Alan. "I could make you forget a day, or a year, or your whole life. Once my sister and I put our powers together, and we switched two people into each other's bodies."

"Whatever," said Lisa incredulously. "I'm going to bed. We'll talk again in the morning."

"Fine," said Alan. "But remember, don't tell _anybody_ I'm here."

* * *

It was also bedtime for D.W., whose mother was tucking her in.

"I'm scared, Mom," said the little aardvark girl. "Arthur and all his friends say Dr. Fugue is the meanest teacher in the universe."

"Don't worry, sweetie," said Mrs. Read, kissing her on the cheek.

"I watched Dr. Fugue play on the video," said D.W. "He plays a grand piano. Grand pianos are really big. With my short little arms, I can't even reach the keys."

"Maybe Dr. Fugue will let you play a baby grand piano," said Mrs. Read comfortingly. "It's smaller than a grand piano."

"Okay," said D.W. with relief. "G'nite, Mom."

"Good night, D.W.," said Mrs. Read, grunting to straighten her pregnant body.

As she walked through the doorway, D.W.'s voice called to her. "Mom, where do baby grand pianos come from?"

Mrs. Read sighed, closed the bedroom door, and shuffled away just as the phone rang.

"Oh, hi, Bitzi," she answered. "Yes, he's still here. I'll see what he's up to."

She heard faint moaning noises as she stepped up to the back of the couch. Upon seeing Buster and Fern in the throes of a passionate kiss, she gasped.

The two children separated their lips and looked up at her. "Sorry, Mrs. Read," said Fern.

"If you want, we can go and kiss somewhere else," said Buster.

While Mrs. Read gaped with wide eyes, D.W. appeared behind the second story railing. "What's going on?" she asked innocently.

"Er, Buster, your mother called," Mrs. Read told the rabbit boy. "It's time for you to go home. Fern, you should start heading home too. It's getting dark, so I'll ask Dave to walk you home."

"Sure, Mrs. Read," said Fern.

The aardvark woman stepped into the kitchen, and the two lovers kissed again. "It's nice to finally have a boyfriend," Fern gushed. "I was afraid I'd never get one."

"You're the best girlfriend I've ever had," said Buster, cradling the poodle girl in his arms. "I've had only one other girlfriend, and she turned out to be an alien. I almost got stuck in her body."

"I'm glad you didn't," said Fern. "I'd hate it if you were a girl."

* * *

to be continued


	7. The Next Morning

Morning rose the next day, and Fern lay silent under her quilt, being of two minds about what she had done the previous evening.

_Don't tell me you've never had a crush on Buster. Didn't you enjoy kissing him? I sure did._

_It was great, but that's not the point. I shouldn't get involved with Buster just to make Alan jealous._

_You think that's all there is to it? Remember the years I spent penned up in that school, never allowed to experience life, or love?_

_I feel sorry for you, honestly, but I don't want to hurt Buster._

_Yes, I remember how you felt when Alan rejected you at the concert. But Buster's different—he's a boy. Boys don't have the same feelings we do._

_But…_

_Have you ever seen a boy run away in tears because a girl turned him down for a date?_

_Well, no…_

_Then what are we arguing about? Heck, what's the point of arguing when we share the same brain?_

_You're right, it's pointless. But don't you feel strange, being ten years old again?_

_Yes, it does feel strange, especially when I think that the real me still has to run and hide because of her powers, while I live the luxurious life of a little girl._

_What do you mean, the real you? You're as much Tegan as she is…_

"Fern, time to get up," called Mrs. Walters from the bedroom door.

"I'm Tegan too," Fern mumbled drowsily.

"What's that, dear?" said her mother.

Fern's eyes snapped open.

"Uh, I said, I'm…I'm taking too long to get out of bed," she explained.

* * *

"Bart, you haven't touched your eggs benedict," said Marge, who had trimmed her once-towering blue hair to a manageable four inches. 

"I can't," said Bart, who sported a nose ring and several arm tattoos. "Like most living creatures, I have a genetically implanted aversion to things that can kill me."

"Bart!" snapped Lisa. "Don't talk that way to your mother."

"Fine, Lis," said Bart peevishly. "Marge, your cooking sucks."

"Bart bad boy," babbled Maggie from the highchair.

"At least Maggie understands me," said Bart with a grin.

"Listen up, Bart," said Homer, lowering the Springfield Shopper in his hands. "If you show your mother any more disrespect, I'll take you behind the woodshed and give you a lecture you won't forget."

"We don't have a woodshed, Homer," said Bart.

"All the better," said Homer. "I hate lectures."

Between bites of sautéed tofu, Lisa stuck her nose into a Scrabble dictionary. "Are you still reading that thing, Lis?" Bart taunted her.

"Yup," said Lisa. "Someday I want to be good enough to beat Thelonius."

Into the kitchen walked the tired-looking Alan, wearing Bart's blue pajamas.

"Hey, where'd the funny-face kid come from?" said Homer.

"I remember you," said Bart. "You're the geeky kid from Elwood City."

Lisa looked at Alan, then at Homer and Bart, with astonishment. As if to prove a point, Alan stepped out of the doorway, then entered the kitchen from another direction. All the Simpsons turned their heads.

"Hey, where'd the funny-face kid come from?" said Homer.

"I remember you," said Bart. "You're the geeky kid from Elwood City."

Alan wordlessly seated himself at the dining table across from the stupefied Lisa. "I hope you're convinced of my powers now," he said calmly. "Please don't ask for any more proof."

Lisa could think of nothing to say. Her mouth fell open, and a brief sigh came out.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your family?" Alan said to her.

"Of course," said Lisa with an anxious chuckle. "Everyone, this is Alan Powers, one of my classmates from Elwood City. He'll be stayingwith us for a few…"

She looked over to Alan, but the bear boy only stared motionlessly.

"…for as long as he wants," Lisa finished.

Once breakfast was over, Lisa dragged Alan to her bedroom, whose walls were almost completely covered with posters. "Alan," she said earnestly, "how long do you intend to stay here?"

"I'm not sure," said Alan. "Until I can think of a plan of action, I guess."

"We can't keep you hidden forever," said Lisa. "But I don't want you to be locked away, either. Those Brainchildren you told me about—why are you afraid to join them?"

Alan narrowed his eyes. "Suppose you could look into the mind of a dangerous criminal," he said darkly.

"Uh-huh," said Lisa.

"Suppose you could experience the criminal's thoughts and emotions as he commits one heinous crime after another."

"Okay."

"Now," said Alan, "suppose you couldn't look away."

Lisa's eyes slowly widened.

"That's what my sister tried to do to me," Alan told her. "She wanted to force my mind into the mind of a professional thief, and leave it there until his personality replaced my own."

"That's horrible," Lisa half-whispered.

"Before, I could only erase people's memories when Tegan and I put our powers together," Alan went on. "But at that moment, I discovered I could do it without her. And I did. I destroyed a man's mind."

Lisa said nothing.

"At first I thought our powers were a gift," Alan continued. "Now I realize they're more of a curse. If we abuse them, the very essence of who we are will be threatened. You may find yourself with someone else's personality, or in someone else's body."

"I don't know what I can do to help you," said Lisa quietly. "But I have a friend who's a scientist…"

* * *

to be continued 


	8. Celeste Aida

"This reminds me of the time when Dolly turned them into a two-headed…thing," Francine mused.

"I missed that," said Muffy. "I was a gold statue at the time."

Francine chuckled. "You're turning into a statue again. You can't take your eyes off them."

They were only two among the mob of kids who had gathered to watch Buster and Fern as they embraced and kissed fondly on a bench in the center court.

"It's so romantic," said Muffy wistfully. "It makes me look forward to the day when I'll cuddle up to a strong, handsome man…while we model Ralph Lauren's latest unisex fashions."

While coming up for air, Buster made an observation. "It's funny how we solved so many mysteries together, but the greatest mystery is why we didn't do this a long time ago."

"I guess I was afraid to make my feelings known," said Fern. "I'm the shy, quiet type, after all."

Among those missing the spectacle were D.W. and Nadine, who were wandering about the playground without a care.

"Don't you think we should be inside watching Fern and Buster kiss?" said Nadine.

"Naw," was D.W.'s response. "I brought the crowd together. My work is done."

Nadine's eye was attracted to something lying in the dirt by the wall. "Look over there," she exclaimed. "It's one of those Pukemon trading cards."

"Cool!" said D.W., running to the spot. Picking up and examining the card, she stated, "It's a Skunkasaurus."

"Wow," Nadine marveled. "Their stench is what made the dinosaurs go extinct."

"I've heard if you rip a Skunkasaurus card in half, a real Skunkasaurus dies," said D.W.

"Hey," said Nadine, "why is it getting dark?"

The two girls turned around, and learned to their horror that Rattles was towering over them with an expression of pure nastiness.

"I think it belongs to the big scary boy," said Nadine nervously. "Give it back to him."

"I don't want your stupid card," Rattles thundered. "I want your lunch money. Hand it over, or I'll set fire to your butts and smoke you."

"Smoking's bad for your health," said D.W. arrogantly.

Enraged, Rattles grabbed the collar of D.W.'s dress and started to shake her. "I'll show you what's bad for your health," he snarled.

As D.W. screamed with fright and Nadine backed away, a courageous voice was heard. "Let go of my sister, you big, ugly crock of crud!"

Rattles, holding D.W. suspended in the air, looked aside and saw Arthur marching toward him. Grinning, he dropped the little girl onto her rear end and put his hands on his waist.

"You're in trouble now," said D.W. as she clambered to her feet. "Arthur's the student body president. He has executive powers."

"You don't have any power over me," gloated Rattles. "I voted for the other guy."

Arthur felt his heart tremble as the larger boy glared down at the top of his head. _I guess this is the first test of my presidency,_ he thought.

More than a dozen kids had stopped their recess activities to watch the confrontation between Arthur and Rattles, but as of yet, no one had stepped forward.

"Hey, that's Arthur Read, the student body president," a cat boy in a ragged T-shirt said to Zeke England. "I'll bet if you help him fight that bully, he'll give you a cabinet position."

"The Bible says, turn the other cheek," Zeke told him.

"The Bible says, you're a doofus," the cat boy responded.

"You've got to the count of three to take off your glasses," said Rattles, shaking a ham-sized fist at Arthur.

"Like you can count that high," D.W. mocked him.

As Arthur tried to remember just what had given him the idea that bullies would respect his authority, an idea came to him. He grinned sinisterly.

"One…two…" Rattles counted.

Arthur took off his glasses.

And dropped them on the ground.

And crushed them under the heel of his shoe.

"AAAARGH!" he wailed. "There's glass in my eyes!"

Rattles gaped. The kids in the playground gaped as well.

"Hey, he broke that kid's glasses!" cried a sheep boy.

"He'll go blind!" exclaimed a monkey girl.

"Let's go help him," said Zeke. "It's what Jesus would do."

The kids converged to Arthur's location as Rattles, fearing their indignation, slipped away quietly. He didn't get far.

"My office is _that_ way, young man," said Principal Haney, pointing toward the school entrance.

"But…but…" Rattles stammered.

"Only a coward hits a boy with glasses," said Mr. Haney. "You're looking at two weeks' detention, if I have anything to say about it."

"But I didn't hit him!" the bully insisted.

"It's true, Mr. Haney," said Arthur, stumbling toward the misty blur that was the principal. "He didn't break my glasses. I broke them myself."

"That's the funniest story I've ever heard," said Mr. Haney.

Noticing the principal's incredulity, D.W. started to laugh riotously. "Oh, that's so funny! He broke his own glasses! Yeah, right!"

"I don't know what he threatened you with," Mr. Haney said to Arthur, "but you don't have to be afraid to tell the truth. I'll see that he doesn't give you any more trouble."

"Oh, man," muttered Rattles as the principal dragged him away.

Arthur bent over and began to collect the shards of glass from his broken spectacles. As he was working, a pink blob approached him.

"Arthur," asked D.W., "what's detention?"

The aardvark boy paused, taken aback by his sister's ignorance.

"Whatever it is, I hope it's really bad," D.W. added.

"Uh," said Arthur, straightening himself, "detention means you have to stay after school for an hour."

"That's it?" D.W. groaned.

Arthur nodded.

"Yeesh!" said D.W. disappointedly. "I've heard of revolving door justice, but this takes the cupcake."

"Are you okay?" asked Zeke, one of several kids who surrounded Arthur.

"Yeah," the boy replied. "But this incident proves what I've been saying ever since I started running for president…"

"This school needs a new spirit of camera-ready," Nadine chimed in.

"That's _camaraderie_, Nadine," Arthur corrected her. "It's time to make my posse program a reality."

"I've already got a posse," said the cat boy in the T-shirt. "Bullies don't dare mess with us."

"What about you, Zeke?" said Arthur. "Do you have a posse?"

"What's that?" asked the Pomeranian boy.

"It's a group of kids you hang out with."

"Oh," said Zeke. "I thought it was something dirty."

"Zeke is now a member of your posse," Arthur told the cat boy. "Is that all right?"

"No way," the boy answered. "Being around him is like going to church."

"Then we're agreed," said Arthur. "I'll see you in class, Zeke."

Turning about, he marched away and promptly ran into a wall.

* * *

At precisely eleven o'clock, Professor Frink appeared on the doorstep of the Simpson house.

"Are you sure this guy's on the level?" asked Alan as he watched Marge answer the doorbell.

"I can't understand a word he says," the blue-haired woman replied. "But I can tell he's sincere."

The man with the column-shaped head and pink jeans startled Alan with his odd appearance, and even more with his eagerness.

"I'm Alan Powers, sir," said the bear boy meekly.

"Oh, yes, I know," said Frink, rubbing his hands together in delight. "My lab assistant told me about you, and your amazing gift, ng'hoy."

"Can you help me get rid of it?" asked Alan hopefully.

"I'll certainly try, yes, I will," said Frink. "I'm not making any promises, but I can promise you this—if I can't help you, then there isn't a scientist in the entire lower east side of the Milky Way who can."

_You've walked right into my hands_, thought the scientist. _But I won't turn you over to the Brainchildren, no, not yet—not until I've toyed with you a little._

Alan could feel his nerves grinding as Frink drove him along in the bizarre-looking pink sedan. _Is this really what I want to be when I grow up?_ he wondered.

"You take your life into your hands every time you drive," Frink babbled, "with the traffic and the road rage and the orange cones that have yet to stop a car from running right over them. That's why I installed an artificially intelligent driving assistant. I call her Aida."

Leaning over, he pressed a button on the dash, and multicolored lights started to flash below the CD player. "Be careful, Professor," a female voice intoned.

"Thank you, Aida," said Frink. "I will be."

"Be careful, Professor," the voice repeated.

The journey became even more strenuous for Alan as Frink began to sing the aria _Celeste Aida_ over and over.

After they arrived at the Springfield Heights Institute of Technology, Frink led his young charge down a stone stairway into a basement entrance. Several corridors later they came upon a bolted metal door, which Frink opened by pressing a series of numbers on a keypad. "Welcome, Professor John Frink," spoke a friendly woman's voice.

The inner chamber was packed with all manner of electronic gadgets, partially completed devices, and loose junk. Alan temporarily forgot his fear as he marveled at the display of technology.

"Welcome to Frinkyland, the most scientific place on Earth," said Frink proudly.

"Whooooaa," said Alan in wonder. Reaching for an object that resembled a hair dryer with exposed circuits, he asked, "What does this thing do?"

"Don't touch that!" Frink bellowed.

Alan sheepishly backed away.

"It's hot," the professor explained. "You'll burn yourself."

"Maybe you should put warning labels on some of this stuff," Alan suggested.

"That would be redundant," said Frink, lifting a metallic helmet from a table. "Everything you see is extremely dangerous. Now hold still, teddy bear boy."

"What is it?" asked Alan.

"It's a brain scanner," Frink replied as he lowered the device over the boy's head. "You may feel a slight tingling in the glavin…"

Alan did his best to stay calm as the scientist manipulated the helmet's controls. He heard a humming noise that lasted for a few seconds, then felt an odd sensation—as if darkness was falling all about him, and the only thing illuminated was Frink himself. Peace flowed over his mind as the image of Frink grew, encompassing the world, then the universe…

His eyes suddenly glazed over. "You are my master," he droned.

* * *

to be continued 


	9. False Love

"Oh, good glavin," Frink grumbled. "That's the wrong helmet!" He quickly snatched the metallic device from Alan's head, and the boy shook his head and awoke from his trance.

"Huh?" said the confused Alan. "What just happened?"

"That was too close," said the professor as he shut off the helmet's power. "Another second and you might have turned into the zombie slave assistant I've always dreamed of having."

While Alan tried to register what Frink had said, the scientist grabbed another helmet of the same size and composition, and laid it over the bear boy's head. A slight dizziness passed through Alan's brain, but as far as he could tell, he still had possession of his free will.

* * *

While Fern and Buster sipped orange juice from the same carton through separate straws, Binky and Francine sat across from each other at a nearby table, enjoying their lunch of vermicelli with beef. (Vermicelli with mystery meat had been phased out after Mrs. McGrady's relevation that it wasn't meat at all, but soy protein.) 

"I thought maybe you could help me with something," said Binky to the monkey girl.

"Sure, what is it?" was Francine's response.

Binky glanced in both directions before going on. "You know the boy who replaced Fern as the voice of Mini Moo?"

"No, I don't know him," Francine answered.

"He's gay," Binky told her. "At least he thinks he's gay."

Francine said nothing.

"I said, he's _gay_," Binky repeated.

"And…?" was all Francine had to say.

"You were gay once," Binky recalled, "but you're not anymore."

"Thank you _so_ much for dredging that up," said Francine.

"But I've been thinking…"

"Be careful, it might become a habit."

"I've been thinking, maybe you weren't really gay. Maybe you were just confused."

Francine smiled slightly. "Yeah, I've thought about that too."

"Like I told you, I have to work with this gay kid," Binky continued. "To tell the truth, it's kinda uncomfortable. There I am dancing around in my cow suit, and there he is sitting in a glass booth, where he can see all my graceful movements."

"I can see how that would be a problem," said Francine sarcastically.

"So what I want to know is, is this kid really gay, or is he just convinced that he's gay? And if he _is _gay, is there a way to make him _not_ gay?"

Francine stared disapprovingly at him.

"Okay, I'll let you think about it for a while, if that's what you need," said Binky.

"I'm not thinking," Francine informed him. "I'm staring disapprovingly."

Binky lowered his pupils.

"You should treat him like you treat anyone else," said Francine. "My uncle Max is gay, and we're all right with that. He can't help what he is, any more than Beat can help liking boys."

Binky looked over his shoulder at the table where Beat was seated, and noticed that the rabbit-aardvark girl was gazing wistfully at him. Realizing that she had been detected, Beat quickly turned her eyes downward to her meal.

* * *

Later that day, the kids poured out of the school building after a long day of being educated. In the parking lot, Mrs. Read pulled the family car up to retrieve Arthur and D.W. The aardvark siblings sat on either side of Kate, who was fastened into a baby seat. 

"Thanks for picking us up, Mom," said D.W.

"No problem, sweetie," said her mother. "I didn't want you to be late for your first lesson with Dr. Fugue."

"Is it too late to take back my 'thank you'?" said D.W. gloomily.

Elsewhere, Fern was bidding farewell to her boyfriend, Buster. "I wish I could come over and help you look for Alan," she said, giving the rabbit boy a peck on the lips. "But I've got a prior engagement with Sue Ellen."

"That's news to me," said the cat girl, who stood nearby.

As the pair of girls walked toward Mrs. Krantz' house, Sue Ellen remarked, "If you're meaning to talk to me about Alan, I don't know anything."

"No, it's not about that," Fern told her.

"And if you want to ask me how I feel about finding out I'm really an alien, there's a good article in the Frensky Star."

"It's not that either," said Fern. "I just want to hang out at your place until April shows up."

"She doesn't know anything about Alan either," said Sue Ellen. "And if you want to ask her how she feels about finding out she's really an alien…"

"Drop it," said Fern.

The girls filled in crossword puzzles for fifteen minutes before Mrs. Krantz and April arrived. "Hi, Fern," said April with a knowing grin. The older cat girl had begun to differentiate herself from Sue Ellen by wearing a red pantsuit and letting her curls hang.

"Got a minute or two?" the poodle girl asked her.

"Sure," said April, and she and Fern disappeared into a bedroom.

"Let's keep it down," whispered April after closing the door. "Sue Ellen knows nothing about our plans, and Iwant it to staythat way."

"All right," said Fern. "So, what's new?"

April sat down on her bed and began to report. "Still no clue as to Alan's location. We haven't seen or heard from Clive, either. We never did find out what his powers are—I hope he doesn't endanger anyone. No new ideas for rescuing my parents from the Thrags. There's good news—the Los Cactos Superior Court decided to drop all charges against me over the crystal theft, but I'll bet you anything the FBI is listening to us at this moment."

"You think the room is bugged?" said Fern with alarm.

"Relax," said April. "My dad was totally paranoid about surveillance. I've chosen not to worry about it at all."

Fern swallowed. "I've come to ask you a favor."

April's eyes brightened.

"I'd like to borrow your invisibility stone," Fern requested.

April grinned, reached into her pocket, and drew out a round sapphire-hued stone. "Going spying, are you? Good luck with that. I don't need to show you how to use it, since I saw you use it once before—or should I say, I _didn't _see you use it."

"Thanks, April," said Fern as she plucked the stone from the cat girl's fingers.

"Who're you spying on?" asked April curiously.

"Prunella," Fern replied. "She's got to know something about where Alan's hiding."

* * *

D.W., in the meantime, had just taken a seat on the piano bench in front of Dr. Fugue's baby grand. 

"Hey, I know him!" the girl exclaimed, pointing at a framed portrait on the wall. "That's Yo Mama!"

The old rat man sighed with frustration. "His name is Yo-Yo Ma."

"But he doesn't have a yo-yo," D.W. observed.

"Yo-Yo is his _name_," Dr. Fugue pointed out.

"That's a stupid name," said D.W. petulantly. "His Ma didn't name him very well."

"Less talking, more Baching," snapped the piano teacher. "We'll start with the C Major scale. To help you recognize the notes, I've attached stickers to the keys in the scale."

"This isn't right," said D.W. "A and B come before C in the alphabet. I know that, and I'm in first grade."

"Silence, little girl!" Dr. Fugue roared. "You will do exactly what I say when I say it, and you will not speak unless spoken to."

D.W.'s first piano lesson went downhill from that point.

* * *

In Springfield, Alan tried to conceal himself in Lisa's room while the girl welcomed her playmates into the Simpson home. 

"Hey, Alan," Lisa called quietly to him, "some of my friends from school are here. Would you like to meet them?"

"No, thanks," replied Alan, who was reading one of Lisa's books on jazz notation.

To his chagrin, two of Lisa's companions had already spotted him through the doorway.

"Look, Sherri!" said one of the identical blue-haired girls. "There's a _boy_ in Lisa's room!"

"I didn't know you were _married,_ Lisa," joked the other twin.

Hoping to drive away the unwanted attention, Alan jumped down from the bed and confronted the twin girls. An odder pair he had never laid eyes on.

"You're not seeing double," said the two girls in unison.

"But I'm _hearing_ double, apparently," Alan remarked.

"Alan, these are my friends, Sherri and Terri," Lisa told him. The twins giggled.

"Which one is Sherri and which one is Terri?" Alan asked.

"We don't know," said Terri, shrugging.

"We look so much alike," added Sherri, "even _we_ can't tell us apart."

Another girl walked up, a blonde with a short skirt and barrette. "New boyfriend, Lisa?" she said girlishly. "What happened to Thelonius?"

"He's not my boyfriend, Alison," said Lisa. "He's…my cousin. Yeah, that's right."

"But he doesn't look like you," Alison observed.

"He looks like a big teddy bear with legs," said Sherri and Terri together.

"I said, he's my cousin," said Lisa sharply. "That means he doesn't have to look like me. Now if you'll pardon us, we need to talk about something in private."

"Okay," said Alison. "But first, Sherri and Terri have something to tell you." The twins snickered.

"What?" asked Lisa.

"You have a big butt," said Sherri and Terri.

Lisa closed the door with an exasperated groan. "Those twins creep me out," Alan told her, "the way they giggle and talk together all the time."

"And there's a pair just like them in Bart's class," said Lisa.

As they conversed, Professor Frink was busy in his laboratory, examining the scans he had made of Alan's brain.

"Fascinating," he said with reverence. "Bumpy, but fascinating."

* * *

In Elwood City, on the roof of the Westboro apartment building, Francine was pounding out a melody on her drum kit when a woman's voice called to her. 

"I can hear you from the first floor, Francine. Could you please turn down the volume?"

Francine raised her sticks, turned around, and was pleased to see Augusta Winslow and Dolly Green standing in the access doorway.

(A/N: For those readers starting the series at this point, Augusta was originally Angus Winslow, a curator/alchemist who was magically transformed into a woman by Dolly. Dolly Green was originally Dolly Proctor, a rat girl from the 17th century who materialized in modern times, magically transformed Angus into a woman, and was herself magically transformed into a boy, Dudley. Later, Dudley was body-switched with an alien cat girl and once again became Dolly, much to her elation. I know this is probably very confusing. I don't care.)

"Sorry about the noise," said Francine. "Hey, Dolly, I love your new body."

"Why, thank you," said Dolly with a slight curtsey.

"What brings you back here?" Francine asked the blond cat girl.

"Join us downstairs for peanut butter cookies," Dolly offered, "and you'll find out."

"Okay," said Francine, rising from her drums. "Uh, the cookies aren't magic, are they?"

"Only magically delicious," said Augusta.

Francine followed her and Dolly to her first-floor apartment, where she saw the usual assortment of potion ingredients on the shelves. One thing, she noticed, had changed—the old, rather tacky furniture had been replaced by a brown leather set.

"It looks a lot nicer than before," Francine said to Augusta.

"I redecorated," said the blond rabbit woman. "You see, not long ago I admitted to myself that I enjoyed being a woman as much as I had enjoyed being a man. On top of that, since I've been both male and female, I understand both genders very well. In short, what Dolly did to me was a blessing, not a curse."

"Uh-huh," said Francine, not fully comprehending.

Augusta lowered herself into an easy chair and sighed. "There's just one problem facing me—how do I find a mate? Even though my own witch powers have been removed, I'm confident that I can pass them on to my daughters, if I ever have any."

"That's where I come in," said Dolly.

"I understand men too well for my own good," Augusta went on. "I can spot their flaws, because the same flaws caused me to fail in my first marriage. The only thing is, they're _all_ flawed."

"That's where I come in," said Dolly.

"You know what they say," said Francine. "Nobody's perfect, especially men."

Augusta chuckled. "Just yesterday, I had another epiphany. You remember how I fell in love with Maria, and proposed to her, because of the potion Dolly made? I said to myself, what if lightning can strike twice? Instead of being extra-selective, why don't I use her potion to make myself fall madly in love with an acceptable man, then abandon myself to whatever follows? _That's_ where you come in, Dolly."

"She asked me to make another batch of love potion," said Dolly. "I don't have witch powers anymore, but the recipe's simple enough that I don't need them."

Francine nodded for a moment, then spoke up. "Okay, but is that really love, when you use magic to make yourself fall in love?"

"Before I answer that," said Augusta, "I have a question or two for you. What's the opposite of true love?"

Francine became pensive. "Uh…false love?"

"Is true love the only good kind of love?"

"Um…uh…well, no, I guess not. If I have a crush on a boy, that's not true love, but it's not a bad thing, either. It could turn into true love someday."

"So false love isn't always bad," Augusta concluded, "because it can turn into true love. Do you see my point?"

"Not really," said Francine. "But what if you use the potion to make yourself love a man, and then he uses you, and deserts you?"

"That's the risk," Augusta acknowledged. "I'd have to choose a man who's a perfect gentleman."

"Hmm," said Francine thoughtfully. "The only perfect gentleman I know is Bailey, Muffy's old chauffeur. He won't even take a lady by the hand without asking permission."

"Yes, I've met Bailey," said Augusta. "Muffy introduced me to him, but I found we had nothing in common. Yet if you say he's a perfect gentleman…"

"I remember something he told Muffy and me," Francine mused. "'A man should stand tall and erect in the defense of his virtue.' I think that's how it went."

Then a sudden inspiration struck her. "Dolly," she asked, "this may sound like a funny question, but what if you gave the love potion to a gay person?"

"Then the person would become gayer still," Dolly replied. "You're right, that _is_ a funny question."

"No, that's not what I mean," said Francine, gesticulating. "What if you used the potion on a boy who's attracted to other boys?"

"Oh, sweet heavens," said Dolly with disgust. "Such things were unheard of in the New England I came from, but they're dreadfully common in this day."

"I'm serious," said Francine. "Would he fall in love with the first girl he sees, or the first boy?"

"I'm ashamed to admit I don't know," was Dolly's response.

Francine grinned mischievously. "Then what do you say we find out?"

* * *

to be continued 


	10. Dread Lord Fugue

"You utterly lack talent and discipline," Dr. Fugue declared. "Furthermore, your fingers are much too stubby. Don't bother practicing, because you have absolutely no future as a pianist. Meet me here tomorrow at the same time, and I'll point out even more of your faults."

D.W. heaved an impatient groan as she climbed down from the piano bench and trudged out of the rat man's uninviting house. The sight of her mother in the family car was the most welcome of her day.

"How was your first lesson, dear?" asked Mrs. Read as she piloted the car away.

"Horrible," said D.W. with a scowl. "Dr. Fugue is the worst teacher ever. I think he must be the Devil in carnations."

"Arthur said the same thing after his first piano lesson with Frederick," said her mother, "only without the religious allusion."

"His first name's Frederick?" D.W. marveled. "I thought it would be Dread Lord or something like that."

"You'll warm up to him," Mrs. Read promised.

"No, I won't," said D.W., folding her arms. "I'm never going back there."

"Oh, yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are, if you ever want to watch _New Moo Revue_ again."

D.W. knew she had no recourse. She quietly snarled under her breath.

"You'll thank me later," said Mrs. Read.

"I'll be buggered if I do," said D.W. grumpily.

"Where did you learn that word?" asked her mother.

"From Beat," D.W. replied. "It's only a swear word if you say it in England."

They passed by Buster's condominium, where Fern had just arrived after her visit to Mrs. Krantz' house.

"Hi, Fern," said Buster, leaning over to kiss the poodle girl. His dog, Amazon Puppy, wanted a piece of the action as well, and licked the shiny surface of Fern's shoe with her rough tongue.

"Sorry for making you wait," said Fern after removing her lips from Buster's. "I had to pick up something from April." She surreptitiously rubbed the stone in her pocket with her fingers.

"It's time for Bunny League Unlimited," Buster told her. "Wanna watch it with me?"

"Sure," said Fern, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

The opening credits of the new cartoon began to roll. "When seven heroes just won't cut it," said the announcer, "you need…Bunny League Unlimited!"

Images of dozens of heroes flashed by on the screen. _In the real world_, thought Fern/Tegan, _the government institutionalizes people with special powers. But someday that will change…_

On the screen, Martian Bunny (a.k.a. J'ack J'ackzon) was inducting new members into the League. "Your name?" he inquired of an aardvark man with a feathered green cap.

"Green Aardvark," the man replied.

"Your power?" asked J'ack.

"I'm the world's greatest archer," said the inductee. "I can incapacitate an entire street gang with one volley of my stun arrows. I also tap dance."

"Normally I'd reject you," said Martian Bunny, "but the evil alien overlord Darksuit is massing his forces for an invasion of Earth, and we need every hero we can get. Here's your membership card and communication device."

"How do I put this on?" asked Green Aardvark, examining the tiny chip.

"Captain Novocaine, the world's most painless dentist, will install it," J'ack told him. "Next, please."

Buster gently stroked Fern's hand. "I wonder where Fast Bunny is," he remarked. "He hasn't been on the show all season."

"Uh-huh," said Fern semi-interestedly.

"And Martian Bunny spends all his time in the space station," Buster went on. "I mean, come on! He got sliced in half and survived. He should be fighting supervillains, not pushing papers."

"Your name?" Martian Bunny asked the shapely female rabbit before him.

"Empowered Woman," she answered.

"Your power?"

"I don't let any man tell me what to do with my life."

"We can't admit you unless you have some kind of super power," Martian Bunny told her.

"You can, and you will," said Empowered Woman.

As the episode progressed, Amazon Puppy continued to lick Fern's shoes. "She's so darling!" gushed the poodle girl.

"What this show needs is a cute animal sidekick," said Buster. "Maybe a cat with a magical tail, or a dog with super-strong jaws, or a duck who can fly."

Fern reached down and lifted the puppy into her lap. "You're such a funny little ball of fur!" she said, tickling the animal's stomach.

_I wasn't even allowed to have a pet at Ballford_, thought the Tegan part of her. _My life begins today…_

When the program ended, Fern kissed Buster one more time and stood up. "I'd love to stay longer, but I have a project to work on."

"Is it something I can help with?" Buster asked her.

"No, this one I've got to do alone," was Fern's answer.

"Okay," said Buster. "I'll see you when you're done."

After he had let Fern out and closed the door, he realized that he had forgotten to give her a goodbye kiss. Throwing the door open, he called out to her. "Fern!"

He saw no one in the hallway.

Minutes later, Fern slowly pushed open the door to the Prufrock house, hoping the residents would attribute it to the wind. Once inside, she crept invisibly through the living room, overhearing Mrs. Prufrock's phone conversation on the way.

"We just adore little Graham, Angela. We all agree that we want a boy, especially my husband. He's been a Scoutmaster for fifteen years, but he's never had a boy of his own to take on camping and fishing trips. Prunella refuses to go fishing—she's afraid of getting a hook in her eye."

The stairs creaked slightly as Fern ascended them; they almost reminded her of the haunted cellar in the old Tibble house. Seeing the door to Prunella's bedroom open and no one inside, she tiptoed her way in. A blanket lay haphazardly over the bed, and a small booklet lay on the desk alongside a large manila envelope.

Fern stepped closer and observed that the cover of the booklet read, PRUNELLA'S DIARY, FOR PRUNELLA'S EYES ONLY. _I didn't know she kept one_, she thought. Imagining it might contain a clue to Alan's whereabouts, she unhesitatingly picked it up and opened it to the bookmarked page.

"Alan's in terrible trouble." The paper appeared to have a few dried tears on it. "I don't know where he's going, and neither does he. I wonder if what he did to Mr. Mansch counts as murder. I hope he doesn't go to jail. That wouldn't be right. He was only defending himself."

_She doesn't know_, Fern realized. _This complicates things_.

She turned the page. "The MRI images came today. I saw the picture of my brain with the little black thing inside of it. I think the aliens put it there to make my memory work again. The doctor said we shouldn't tell anybody about it, because some people would try to steal it from out of my head and copy the technology."

_An alien chip in her brain_. The implications made Fern's heart flutter.

As she prepared to turn another page, a girl's voice from the first floor reached her doglike ears. "Hello, Mrs. Prufrock. Is Prunella home?"

"She'll be back in a few minutes," said another voice. "If you want, you can go up to her room and wait for her."

The next sound was of slow footsteps and creaking stairs. _I've got to hide!_ thought Fern. _I may be invisible, but she can still run into me!_

She glanced around hastily, looking for a good hiding place. The closet was filled with dresses and boxes that once contained dolls and toys. Her only hope was to conceal herself behind the bed.

She tried to replace the diary where she had found it, but her movements were careless, and the book fell over the edge of the desk. Landing on its spine, it fell open to the page Fern had been reading. The tasseled bookmark flew off to one side.

_Oh, no!_ thought Fern anxiously. The footsteps increased in volume.

Then she realized that the fallen diary wasn't the worst of her problems. In her clumsy efforts to stop it from sliding off the desk, she had dropped the invisibility stone. She vaguely recalled seeing it roll under the bed through the corner of her eye.

_I'm visible!_ she realized. _I've got to get the stone back! No, there's no time! Must hide!_

She raced around the end of the bed, but as she bent her knees to crouch, she saw a pair of eyes looking directly at her through the doorway…

* * *

to be continued 


	11. A Note from Greta

"I was afraid I'd get caught," Fern related to April, "but fortunately it turned out to be Marina, Prunella's blind friend. I managed to get the stone back and sneak past her."

"And a good thing, too," said April. "I'd hate for you to have to explain to Mrs. Prufrock how you managed to enter the house unnoticed."

"I suppose you want the stone back now," said Fern, lifting the object in her palm. "I'm not very good at using it."

"No, hold on to it," said April, waving her hand. "You need the practice. So, what did you find out?"

"I read her diary," Fern replied. "She doesn't know where Alan is, but she wrote something about an object in her brain that showed up on the MRI images. There was an envelope on her desk—I think it contained the pictures, but I didn't get a chance to look."

"What kind of an object?" April asked her.

"I'm not sure. She thinks the aliens implanted it when they operated on her brain."

April fingered her chin. "Hmm…maybe that's why telepathy doesn't work on her."

"It could be a medical device," Fern theorized, "or perhaps a surveillance device."

"Surveillance?" April pondered. "You mean the aliens can see and hear everything Prunella does?"

"I can't imagine why they'd need to," said Fern.

"Maybe they want to monitor Prunella's health," said April thoughtfully.

"Or cheat on their homework," Fern added.

April gave her an earnest look. "If that's true—if it's possible to communicate with the aliens through Prunella—then we can use that to our advantage."

After consulting with April, Fern hurried back to her house for a late dinner. As was her habit, she sat down in front of the computer screen before taking care of any other business (including the bathroom). Here was something else the Tegan part of her had missed—the expectation of e-mail and chat messages from friends.

"Hi, Fern," said a message from Binky. "Sure wish you'd come back to the show. Wyatt stared at me the whole time while speaking his lines. Maybe it's my imagination, but I _am_ a big muscular guy, and kinda handsome, so I don't know what to think."

Fern tapped out a sarcastic reply: IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD, ESPECIALLY THE PART ABOUT BEING HANDSOME.

"Hi, Fernie," said Mrs. Walters, poking her head over the kitchen counter. "I saved five pieces of ravioli for you, just like you asked."

"Thanks, Mom," said Fern with a smile.

"Make sure you eat it all this time," said her mother.

Fern nodded and turned her eyes back to the screen. "Guess what, Fern?" said an e-mail from Muffy. "My dad said he's gonna buy us a new limo on Saturday. I asked if he was gonna get a Lincoln Continental. He said he would get something just as nice, but more cost-effective. That means 'more for your money' in car salesman talk."

Opening the Instant Messenger window, she saw a note that excited her more than any other: HI FERN, IT'S GRETA. TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOUR NEW BOYFRIEND.

The poodle girl couldn't type fast enough. HI GRETA! BUSTER WASN"T IN TOWN LAST YEAR, SO YOU DIDN'T GET TO MEET HIM.

By the time she had nibbled down her fourth piece of ravioli, Greta had responded: I'D LIKE TO MEET BUSTER.

Fern's heart pounded with joy. ARE YOU SERIOUS? she typed.

She held her breath for ten seconds, and then the word appeared: YES.

The prospect of seeing Greta thrilled Fern beyond words. She had met the horse girl a year before, and they had forged a great friendship, which was cut short when Greta departed over paranoid fears about Mr. Baker, Fern's drama coach. Despite Fern's probing, she had never found the reasons for Greta's concern, or D.W.'s odd mutation into a horse girl exactly resembling her.

IS IT SAFE? was Greta's next typed message.

Fern tried to come up with some reassuring words. MR. BAKER MOVED AWAY AFTER LOSING HIS JOB, she entered. NO ONE ELSE HAS BOTHERED ME ABOUT YOU.

An answer shortly came. I'LL COME TO YOUR HOUSE TOMORROW.

_She's coming here_, thought Fern gladly.

As she imagined the preparations she would make, a startling thought occurred to her. _Mr. Baker thought Greta was a unicorn. I didn't believe in unicorns and ghosts and fairies before, but now that I've learned about the Brainchildren, and shared my mind with one of them, anything seems possible. Why is Greta so secretive? How was she able to change D.W.'s appearance? Did Mr. Baker really stand before a Unicorn Council with Arthur and Francine?_

_Could Greta be a Brainchild in hiding?_

* * *

to be continued 


	12. Nadine Has an Idea

When Arthur, D.W., and Francine arrived in front of Lakewood Elementary the next day, Fern approached them immediately, ready to burst with the good news.

"Hey, guys!" she called out. "Guess who's coming to my house tonight!"

"Frank Gehry?" guessed Francine.

"Koko Taylor?" guessed Arthur.

"Jack Prelutsky?" guessed D.W.

"None of the above," said Fern excitedly. "It's my friend, Greta von Horstein."

Arthur, Francine, and D.W. froze in their tracks. The school's metal door swung back and hit Arthur's rear end.

"What's wrong?" asked Fern when she saw the stunned looks on their faces.

"Uh, nothing," said Arthur, forcing a smile.

"Yeah, we'd love to see Greta again," said Francine insincerely.

"Greta! Greta! Greta!" gushed D.W., jumping and waving her hands.

"She'll be there at six," Fern told them. "You're all welcome to come."

"Awesome!" cried D.W. as she rushed forward to embrace the poodle girl around the legs.

"Why are you hugging me?" Fern asked.

"I like to hug the bringer of good news," replied D.W.

Fern patted the little girl on the head and skipped away, leaving Arthur and Francine to face each other grimly. "If Greta's back, that can only mean trouble," Francine remarked.

"You don't need to tell _me_ that," said Arthur.

"The last time we saw her," Francine recalled, "she tried to force us to leave our families and join her in the underground world of the unicorns."

"Yeah," said Arthur, "but you don't need to tell me that."

"And before that," Francine went on, "she turned D.W. into a unicorn, and we had to go through all kinds of trouble to get her changed back."

"Francine," said Arthur, "you _don't_ need to tell me that."

"I'll ask her to turn me back into a unicorn," said D.W., clasping her hands and gazing wistfully into the air. "Then I'll live underground with her, and never have to go to another piano lesson with Dr. Fugue."

"On the other hand," said Arthur, ignoring her, "she _did_ save our butts when the X-Pets tried to kill us and destroy the city."

"Yeah, you're right," said Francine thoughtfully. "And without her magical horn, Marina would've never been cured of amnesia. I guess we should give her another chance to be our friend."

"Are you kidding?" D.W. scolded them. "Of course you want Greta to be your friend. Unicorns are so cool, you should consider yourself lucky if you have one as an _enemy_."

"Fine," said Arthur. "We'll go to Fern's and see her. Now go to class, D.W."

His little sister bounded away, muttering "Greta's coming! Greta's coming!" with delight.

She entered Mrs. Frensky's first-grade classroom, where her friends Nadine, Tommy, Timmy, Emily, Vicita, Dallin, and James were preparing for the beginning of class by making as much noise as possible.

"Why so happy, D.W.?" said Mrs. Frensky when she saw the smiling aardvark girl walk in.

"I get to see my friend Greta after school," D.W. told her.

"But don't you have a piano lesson after school?" said the teacher.

D.W.'s smile dropped into a frown. "You had to ruin the moment, didn't you?" she grumbled, trudging toward her desk.

During first period the children practiced their cursive writing. D.W. paused in the middle of her exercise to ponder her options. _I don't think the unicorn idea's gonna fly, she thought_. _I need to think of some other way to get out of piano lessons with Dr. Fugue_.

_I could run away, but I'd probably get hungry after a month._

_I could shoot Dr. Fugue in the eye with a rubber band. No, he's prepared for that—he wears glasses._

_Sue Ellen's an alien. I could ask her to abduct me._

_I could pick a fight with Rattles and get sent to the hospital, where they'd give me candy and ice cream. No, wait—that would hurt a lot._

_I could pick a fight with somebody my own size, and go to the principal's office, and get detention._

_I could dye my hair and put on a fake moustache, and call myself Ida P. Morgenstern._

_I could join the army, like Francine's sister did, and get sent to Karjakistan._

_I could stand in the middle of the street and…wait, what was that idea about detention?_

She looked over at the adjacent desk, where Nadine was busily etching cursive letters. _How can I do this to my best friend? _she thought. _But no one else would understand. It has to be her._

She swallowed, anxious that her stratagem might cost her a valuable friendship.

"Hey, Nadine," she whispered.

The squirrel girl turned her head and smiled.

D.W. pointed to a spot on Nadine's sheet of paper. "That _w_ looks like somebody's butt," she said mockingly.

"Does not," Nadine retorted.

"Does too," D.W. insisted. "It looks like Dallin's butt." Her voice grew in volume. "You drew Dallin's butt. You're in love with Dallin!"

"Shut up!" exclaimed Nadine as Dallin glanced at her and blushed.

"Girls, be quiet, please," said Mrs. Frensky.

"She started it!" Nadine complained.

"That's enough, Nadine," said the teacher sternly. "Don't make me send a note to your mother."

D.W. was about to open her mouth again, when…_a note to her mother?_

"Sorry, Mrs. Frensky," said Nadine meekly.

_A note to her mother?_ thought D.W. bitterly. _What kind of punishment is that? If I want detention, I'll have to do something more heinous._

But what? With cursive practice occupying her mind, how would she think of an idea?

As the kids filed out at the end of first period, Nadine confronted her friend. "You're mean, D.W.," she grumbled. "I'm not in love with Dallin, and I didn't draw his butt."

"Shh, Nadine," said D.W. mischievously. When she was certain that all the other students had left and Mrs. Frensky wasn't paying attention, she whispered, "I'm trying to get detention so I can skip my piano lesson with Dr. Fugue."

Nadine's scowling lips curled into a wicked smile.

"It's hard for a first-grader to get detention," she explained to D.W. while walking past the playground during morning recess. "You basically have to endanger someone's life."

"I've got to do _something_," said D.W. with a shrug, "or Dr. Fugue will endanger _my_ life."

"What about Arthur?" said Nadine. "You hate him, don't you?"

"No, I just find him annoying. I don't really hate anybody at the school—except maybe Rattles."

"Well, there you go," said Nadine with a satisfied grin. "Throw a rock at him or something."

"He'll kill me," said D.W.

"Wait a minute," said Nadine, stopping and bending over.

She whispered something into D.W.'s ear, and the aardvark girl's eyes brightened. "That's a _great_ idea!" she exclaimed.

* * *

to be continued 


	13. Molly and Mustard

Mr. Haney had just plucked a purple lollipop from his desk drawer when Nadine rushed into his office. "Principal Haney!" the girl cried out. "D.W. just stole a bottle of mustard from the lunchroom, and she's gonna do something terrible with it!"

"Come again?" said Mr. Haney, straightening his glasses.

Elsewhere, Beat and Molly were conversing while D.W. lurked around a corner, hiding an object behind her back.

"Explain that once more," Molly said to Beat.

"The square root of four is two," said the rabbit-aardvark girl as she pointed at the figures in Molly's notebook. "The square root of two is an _irrational_ number."

"This whole class is irrational, if you ask me," said Molly. The rabbit girl wore a red dress, and her hair was steadily growing to cover her hazel eyes again.

"Maths are important," Beat told her. "You'll need them to make change at Chicken Licken, if for no other reason."

At that instant D.W. popped out of her hiding place, just as Nadine hurried to the scene, Principal Haney in tow. "Hello, what's this?" said Beat curiously.

"D.W., don't do it!" cried Nadine.

Undeterred, D.W. leaped forward, pointed the nozzle of the mustard bottle directly at Molly, and squeezed. Beat scarcely managed to dodge as the stream of mustard landed on Molly's dress, leaving a stringy yellow stain.

"My dress!" exclaimed Molly in horror. "My only dress!"

"Oh, D.W., how could you?" said Nadine with mock indignation.

D.W. responded by squirting another volley of mustard at Molly. Mr. Haney acted quickly, grabbing the bottle from D.W.'s hands, and staining his own hands yellow in the process.

Beat was shocked. "Dora Winifred Read, what are you thinking?"

"It's okay," said Molly, calming down. "I hate this dress, but my dad makes me wear it. Now I can go back to jeans."

Mr. Haney began to drag the smug-looking D.W. away. "You'll be sorry you did that, young lady," he said sternly.

"I'm not a young lady," said D.W. petulantly. "I'm a little girl. You should get your glasses checked."

"You have no right to torment Molly McDonald that way," said Principal Haney after he had seated D.W. on the other side of his desk. "She was a bully once, but she's been a model student ever since her father was released from jail."

"Are you gonna give me detention or not?" said D.W.

"Don't interrupt me," said Mr. Haney. "I've had as much as I can take of you kids making fun of Molly. She should be commended for her…"

"I don't have all day," said D.W., squirming in her seat. "Either give me detention, or I'm outta here."

Mr. Haney seemed to not hear her. "She should be commended for her change of character. As for you, I'll make sure your parents are notified of your…"

Growling impatiently, D.W. grabbed the object on the desk nearest her hand—a framed photo of the principal's late wife—and hurled it with all her might. The picture shattered against the back wall of the office, sending shards of glass onto the floor.

Mr. Haney glared at the ruined picture on the floor, then at D.W. "That does it, Miss Read," he said angrily. "Meet me in detention hall after school today. Now get out of my office and go to class."

"Thank you, Principal Haney," said D.W., smiling as she jumped down from the chair.

Puzzled by the girl's attitude, Mr. Haney reached into a drawer, pulled out another framed picture of his wife, set it down on the desk, and picked up the phone to call D.W.'s parents.

Hundreds of miles away in another principal's office, Bart Simpson walked into the room he knew very well. "Hey, Principal Skinner," he called to the blue-suited man behind the desk.

"What can I do for you, Bart?" asked Skinner with a forced smile.

"I really hate to snitch," said Bart seriously, "but I think you have a right to know—there's a kid from Elwood City hanging out with my sister, and he doesn't go to school."

* * *

to be continued 


	14. DW and Detention

"Thanks to you, Molly's parents will have to spend fifty dollars for a new dress," Mr. Haney scolded D.W.

_Molly's dress, $50_, D.W. thought. _Getting out of piano lessons, priceless_.

The principal escorted her into the detention room, where a sleepy-eyed bulldog man sat with his legs over the teacher's desk and kept watch over a single student—Rattles.

"Take a seat," said Mr. Haney. "I want you to spend the next hour thinking about what you did."

D.W. chose a desk on the far end of the room, away from Rattles. The bully stared straight ahead with a scowl, and seemed to not notice her entrance.

_All right, then_, she thought as she sat down. _Now I'll start thinking about what I did. I squirted Molly with mustard and broke a picture of Mr. Haney's wife. I squirted Molly with mustard and broke a picture of Mr. Haney's wife. I squirted...oh, good grief! This is so boring, and I've only been here for five seconds!_

She looked out the window. The kids were wandering home in different directions, some on foot, some by bicycle, and some on a school bus. Arthur, who happened to be standing next to Fern and Buster on the sidewalk, looked back at D.W. and frowned disapprovingly. D.W. responded by sticking out her tongue and thumbing her nose. Arthur turned the back of his head to her.

_So much for that game_, she thought, retracting her tongue. _Now what do I do?_

She glanced over at Rattles, who was cupping his chin in his hands and glaring at the cover of a Scare-Your-Pants-Off book. _Wish I'd brought a book_, she thought. _I finally know how to read, and here I am stuck in detention without a book. This sucks in so many ways._

The man at the front of the room appeared on the verge of falling asleep. _There's nothing else to do_, thought D.W., _so I'll go and tell Rattles how much I hate him._

With a self-assured grin, she hopped down from her desk and walked across the room to Rattles' side. Slipping into the desk next to him, she eyed him up and down, opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again. _He's already in a bad mood_, she thought. _I don't want to make it any worse._

"So," she said quietly, "do you like…stuff?"

Rattles shot her a look of impatience and weariness, then turned his eyes back to the book in his hands.

"Not a talker, eh?" said D.W. in a friendly tone.

Rattles finally broke his silence. "Did you do something wrong," he asked her, "or did Haney put you in here just to make me miserable?"

D.W. smiled proudly. "I did something wrong. I squirted Molly with mustard and broke a picture of Mr. Haney's wife."

Rattles' eyes widened. "You squirted Molly with mustard? And you're still alive?"

D.W. nodded.

"Molly's turned into such a wuss," said Rattles with a groan.

"Now I have to think of something bad to do tomorrow," said D.W. "Maybe you can help me."

"I'll tell you what you can do," said Rattles. Leaning over, he whispered a few words into D.W.'s ear.

The aardvark girl gave him a puzzled look. "I don't think I can bend my head back that far," she said innocently.

"Then how about this?" said Rattles, muttering a few more silent words to her.

"But I'd have to wipe it up afterwards," said D.W.

"Geez, you're no fun," grumbled Rattles.

D.W. thought for a moment, then asked the boy another question. "How do I get more than one day of detention?"

"Why do you _want_ detention?" said Rattles incredulously.

"Because I've got piano lessons after school," D.W. replied, "and I don't want to go."

For a moment, Rattles' imagination floated back to a fateful day when he sat motionlessly in a chair, watching men and women in navy blue uniforms stroll back and forth. A radio was playing above his head: "We will now hear a recording of Rachmaninov's Third Piano Concerto, with Yefim Bronfman as soloist."

What came next was the most beautiful wave of sound he had ever heard. He was only five, yet the music swept his heart away. He wanted to bathe his soul in it forever…

His father emerged from a doorway, a distraught expression on his face. "Where's Mommy?" Rattles asked him.

The man wiped a tear from his cheek. "Mommy's not going home with us," he announced sadly.

Since then, whenever he had listened to a piece of sweet piano music, it had reminded him of one thing.

"Yeah," he said to D.W. "Yeah, I can help you."

* * *

"We're messengers of the Lord," said one of the Mormon missionaries. "We've come to your door with a message of hope and salvation." 

Homer's eyes brightened. "Flanders is…dead?" he said hopefully.

"Er…" the other missionary began.

"Flanders is dead!" cheered Homer, pumping his fists. "Flanders is finally dead! WOO-HOO!"

"Homer, I'm right over here," said Ned Flanders from the other side of the fence.

"Stupid lying Mormons," groused Homer, slamming the door.

In the kitchen, Lisa had finished a batch of tofu paté, and Alan was helping her spread it onto celery sticks while Bart looked on from the table. "The best thing about it, "she remarked, "is that it's 100 vegetarian."

_It's certainly not the smell_, thought Alan.

"Here, try one," said Lisa, handing the boy a piece of celery with tofu filling.

The doorbell rang. "I sense a great disturbance in the Force," said Bart ominously.

Lisa hurried to answer it, leaving Alan holding the celery stick. "Here, you try it," he said, trying to hand it to Bart.

"No way, man," said Bart, waving his hand.

Alan then passed the celery stick to Santa's Little Helper, who whined and turned away his nose.

He heard Lisa's voice from the front door saying, "Hello, Principal Skinner." _It's Lisa's principal_, he thought. _I'd better make myself scarce._

The next voice he heard sent a chill through his heart. "I'm looking for Alan Powers." Startled, he dropped the celery stick, which landed tofu-side down on the floor.

Lisa chuckled nervously. "Uh, there's no Alan Powers here. You must have the wrong, er, area code."

"I'd like to have a look around," said Skinner insistently.

"Uh, sure," said Lisa, following the principal. "I've got nothing to hide."

Alan, hiding behind the refrigerator, gasped when Bart suddenly blew his cover. "He's in here, Principal Skinner!"

"Bart!" cried Lisa in horror. "Uh, I mean, who are you talking about?"

Bart's pointing finger led Skinner directly to Alan's location. "Yes," said the principal with satisfaction. "From the placement of your ears, I'd say you're definitely the missing boy from Elwood City."

"What do you want?" Alan asked him.

"To help," the principal replied. "You want to go back to your family, don't you?"

"You don't understand," said Alan earnestly. "If my parents find me, they'll lock me up, just like they locked up my sister."

"Come with me," said Skinner, extending his hand. "We'll go to the police, and you can tell them…"

"Trust me, Mr. Skinner," said Alan, fiery determination in his eyes. "You don't want to get involved in this."

Skinner took a tentative step closer. "If you'll just let me…"

"I have powers!" Alan warned him. "I can destroy your mind with a thought!"

"He's telling the truth," said Lisa, just as Skinner lunged forward and caught the boy around the wrist.

"Let me go!" Alan cried, only to be dragged into the principal's firm grip.

"It's no use struggling," said Skinner to the wriggling lad. "I was a Green Beret in 'Nam."

"It's true," said Lisa, struck with an idea. "He saw so many of his Army buddies shot down like cattle…"

"Let go!" Alan cried. "I don't want to hurt you!"

"Then the Vietcong captured him," Lisa continued as anger started to wrench Skinner's face. "They tortured him for eighteen months solid."

"That's quite enough, Lisa," grumbled the principal.

"And when he finally returned to America," Lisa went on, "people spat on him and called him a traitor. People who should have hailed him as a hero…"

"Shut…up…Lisa," said Skinner through gritted teeth.

"What's the matter, Principal Skinner?" said Lisa playfully. "Are the memories too painful? Don't you wish you could forget them?"

"Yes!" exclaimed the principal. "I'd give anything just to forget!"

Alan, bound tightly by Skinner's arms, stood still and grinned. "Your wish is granted."

Gazing into the principal's mind, he deftly wiped clean the memories of Vietnam, leaving the others intact.

After a moment's pause, Skinner relaxed his hold on Alan and lifted his hands to his temples. A new light seemed to shine from his eyes.

"It's…it's like I was never there," he whispered in awe. Alan and Lisa exchanged looks of relief.

Skinner slowly backed away, the sight of Alan filling him with both fear and reverence. His mouth remained frozen in a gaping position as he shuffled out of the Simpson house.

Minutes later, he drove up to his mother's house and walked inside. "Seymour!" an acerbic voice called to him from the second floor. "You still have some of that Krabappel woman's underwear in your dresser! Can't you give her up and move on? There are plenty of good women in Springfield, if you'll just get your useless butt out of your room and into the hair salon. That's where the best ones hang out."

"Put a sock in it, Mother," said Skinner confidently.

* * *

to be continued 

(A/N: I have indeed watched the Firefly series, and I'm looking forward to the movie Serenity.)


	15. Wyatt Falls in Love

"How could you be so mean?" Lisa chided her brother as Alan looked on.

"Get real, Lis," said Bart earnestly. "This kid put a grown man in diapers. He's too dangerous to hide here. Let the police take care of him."

"He's my friend, Bart," was Lisa's response. "He's your friend too. We're the only ones standing between him and life as a scientific specimen."

"Give it up, Lisa," said Alan sadly. "I can't stay here."

"Yes, you can!" said Lisa, taking the boy by the hand. "Make Bart forget who you are again. It's easy."

"No," said Alan, shaking his head. "I don't know what'll happen if I use my power on him over and over. I've caused too much brain damage already."

"Where will you go?" Lisa asked him.

"I don't know," Alan replied. "Maybe Professor Frink will take me in."

* * *

For minutes on end, Francine and Dolly watched Mary Moo Cow and her acolytes prance about on the sound stage. "Two and two are four," sang Jean Stiles in her cow voice. "Four and four are eight…"

"Is it true that three- and four-year-olds watch this program?" Dolly whispered to Francine.

"Uh-huh," the monkey girl answered.

"Merciful heavens," Dolly marveled. "You're raising a generation of geniuses."

When the recording was finished, Binky and Mrs. Stiles changed out of their suits and met with the two girls offstage. "I hope you enjoyed yourselves," said the polar bear woman.

"I certainly did," said Dolly with delight. "It was like being inside a television set."

Mrs. Stiles chuckled. "That's a funny way of looking at it," she remarked.

Wyatt Holberg arrived just as she was leaving for the ladies' room. "I hope you can come and watch us again someday," he said to Francine and Dolly.

"I hope so too," said Dolly. "Before you all leave, I'd like to share some chocolate candies with you."

"Mmm…chocolate," said Binky, licking his lips eagerly.

"Uh, I'm watching my weight," said Wyatt hesitantly.

"Now, now," said Dolly, drawing from her pocket a plastic bag filled with chocolate orbs. "You don't want to hurt a girl's feelings."

"I'll be right back," said Francine, stepping quickly out of sight of the others.

"Please try it," urged Dolly. The candy in her outstretched palm tempted Wyatt, who finally picked it up and bit off half of it.

"Can I have one now?" Binky asked Dolly, who motioned for him to be patient.

As Wyatt chewed on the confection, an odd feeling spread through his body.

Francine kept her eyes on him from behind a partition. _Come on, come on_, she thought, barely suppressing a giggle. She fondly recalled the occasion when she had requested a love potion from Dolly in hopes of making Arthur fall for her, only to accidentally ingest it herself and fall head over heels for Alan.

The feeling was unlike anything Wyatt had experienced. He looked at Binky, then at Dolly, then at Binky again.

_Omigosh, no…_

To the surprise of Binky and Dolly, the gaping, wide-eyed boy turned and ran from their presence.

He ran so fast that he nearly collided with the automatic exit doors. He ran until he reached the sidewalk, where the two women who cared for him waited at the curb.

Opening the door and leaping into the back seat, Wyatt gasped, "Take me away from here. Take me away now!"

"What's wrong?" asked the woman in the driver's seat as she rolled the steering wheel. "Is there a bomb in the studio?"

Wyatt didn't answer. Pressing his hands against the car window, he gazed longingly toward the building he had just left. _Stop thinking about him_, he ordered himself, closing his eyes tightly. _Stop thinking about Binky…_

Francine, meanwhile, leaped out from behind the wall to speak with her befuddled friends. "What just happened?" she inquired.

"Something unexpected," was Dolly's reply.

Binky turned to her. "On second thought, I'm not that hungry."

* * *

Alan could feel the sweat between his hand and the phone receiver.

"Ng'hey. Professor Frink speaking."

"Hi, Professor. This is Alan."

"I was hoping you'd call, Alan. I'm still examining the scans of your brain. Let me put that another way—I can't take my eyes off them. The neurons in your hippocampal area are networked in a manner I've never seen. This isn't a mere evolutionary advance—it's clearly a result of intelligent design."

"Whatever," said Alan. "Just tell me if you can cure me of my powers."

"Patience, boy, patience," said Frink. "You can't expect me to succeed overnight where others have striven for years and failed."

"Others?" said Alan curiously. "What others?"

Frink stammered a bit. "I'm not the first scientist to investigate this phenomenon. My colleagues—or should I say, other scientific professionals with whose work I'm familiar…"

"Hold on," said Alan in a discouraged tone. "You're telling me it could take years to find a cure?"

"Or months," Frink replied. "Or days. But probably years. It doesn't matter—time is relative, as Einstein taught us."

Alan's heart sank.

"But take heart," Frink went on. "You're the owner of a unique brain. As long as you don't fall into the wrong hands, you have a bright future as an instrument of human progress."

Unwilling to hear more, Alan put down the receiver forcefully.

"You didn't ask him if you could stay at his house," said Lisa.

"What's the point?" said the exasperated Alan. "He doesn't know how to cure me. He'd keep me in his lab for years, poking and prodding me with his pokers and prodders."

Seeing the despair on her friend's face, Lisa stood on her toes and put her arms around his neck. He felt the coolness of her pearl necklace against his shirt.

"You're not alone, Alan," she said gently. "You'll never be alone."

Bart couldn't help but be touched by the sentimental scene. "Gee, Lis," he said apologetically. "If I'd known he meant so much to you, I wouldn't have called the FBI."

"WHAT?" cried Lisa and Alan.

"Just kidding, guys," said Bart with a smirk.

There came a knock at the door, and Lisa hurried to answer it, praying it wasn't a return appearance of Principal Skinner.

"Hi, everybody!" said the black-haired man wearing a smock and stethoscope.

"Hi, Dr. Nick," Bart and Lisa responded.

The European doctor addressed his words to Alan. "Principal Skinner told me that you have the ability to remove memories. One year ago I pulled the plug on my mother's life support, and it has haunted me ever since."

"So you want me to erase it from your mind?" said Alan.

"No," replied Dr. Nick. "I want you to erase it from the minds of the malpractice lawyers. They won't leave me alone!"

"I've got you now!" exclaimed Lionel Hutz as he grabbed Dr. Nick around the ankle.

* * *

to be continued 


	16. Greta Comes to Call

"Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Read when she saw D.W. sticking her arm into her coat sleeve.

"I'm going with Arthur and Francine to Fern's house to see Greta," the little girl replied.

"I don't think so," said her mother firmly. "Not after what you did to Molly."

D.W. let out an indignant gasp. "Mom, you can't do that to me! I haven't seen Greta for a whole year! Besides, I was already punished at school."

"Not enough, if you ask me," said Mrs. Read as she snatched up D.W.'s coat and placed it in the closet. "You don't look sorry at all for your mustard stunt."

"I _told_ you I was sorry," said D.W. in a pleading tone.

"She looks sorry to me," said Arthur to his mother.

"Me too," Francine chimed in.

"If you're genuinely sorry," said Mrs. Read to D.W., "you'll go sit on the couch and watch TV until Arthur and Francine come back."

D.W.'s heart sank, only to rise again when she noticed that Arthur was winking slyly at her.

"Okay," she said emotionlessly.

Mrs. Read pushed gently on the girl's back as she trudged into the living room. "Be grateful Dr. Fugue doesn't get to punish you as well," she joked.

Shortly Arthur and Francine were en route to Fern's residence. "What was the winking about?" Francine asked her friend.

"Mom said D.W. can't go to Fern's," Arthur replied. "But she didn't say Greta can't come to _our_ house."

Fern, meanwhile, was so eager for Greta's arrival that she hadn't swallowed for several minutes. The TV was on, but she only stared at the door. Then the phone rang.

"Fern, will you get that?" called her father from the garage.

The poodle girl reluctantly picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hi, Fern, it's Jean."

"This isn't a good time," said Fern impatiently. "I'm expecting company."

"I'll be quick then," said Mrs. Stiles. "Wyatt just quit. I have no one to voice Mini Moo."

The news left Fern speechless.

"I could really use you right now," Mrs. Stiles told her.

The doorbell rang. "I'll ask Mickie if she wants the job," Fern spoke rapidly into the phone. "Goodbye, Mrs. Stiles."

She hung up the phone and opened the door in one fluid movement.

"Hi, Fern," said the pale-haired horse girl on the doorstep. "Long time no see."

Fern was about to throw her arms around Greta—when she observed something strange.

"You…haven't grown," she remarked.

_She was a year older than me when I saw her last_, Fern thought. _Now we're the same size. How…?_

"I'm a late bloomer," Greta explained. "My parents are worried too, but the doctor says it's nothing serious."

"Well, come in, anyway," said Fern with a joyful smile.

Unlike her body, Greta's white hair had grown; it was now past her shoulders. She glanced around curiously as she strolled through the living room. "Still as I remember it," she remarked.

"There's one good thing about not growing," said Fern facetiously. "You don't have to buy new clothes."

"That's right," said Greta. "I've been wearing this same dress for what seems like twenty years."

While Fern was showing her a scrapbook of items she had made at school, Greta remarked on her long absence. "I'm sorry about all the secrecy. You have a friend whose parents are alien spies, so you understand."

"How'd you know about that?" Fern asked her.

"If I tell you," Greta replied, "I'll have to kill you."

"If you don't tell me, I'll kill _you_," said Fern with a chuckle. "How do you like that?"

"A fight to the death would be _so_ much fun," said Greta wistfully.

The doorbell rang, and Fern permitted Arthur and Francine to enter.

"Well, well," said Greta, standing to welcome them. "I haven't seen you two forever."

"You just saw us…" Francine started to say.

"_Forever_," said Greta, staring into her eyes.

"Right," said Francine, smiling sheepishly.

"My sister really wants to see you," Arthur told Greta, "but she's grounded, so could you stop by my house when you're finished here?"

"Certainly," said the horse girl. "I've missed D.W. terribly."

The flush of a toilet was heard, and Buster emerged from the washroom in the act of zipping his pants. "Uh-oh," he muttered upon seeing the visitors.

"You must be Buster," said Greta pleasantly.

The rabbit boy turned and hurried into the bathroom. The next sound Arthur, Francine, and Greta heard was water flowing from a faucet.

"Okay, I'm ready," said Buster, shaking droplets of water from his hands as he stepped out.

"He has a nice smile," Greta commented.

"He has nice lips, too," said Fern, giving Buster a smack.

"Let's all go to Arthur's house," said Francine, quoting the first stanza of a proposed theme song that was rejected in favor of _What a Wonderful Kind of Day_.

Fern and Buster led the way, hand in hand, as the cloudless sky began to darken above them. Greta carefully watched the houses on each side of the street, as if expecting Mr. Baker to jump out from behind a hedge.

D.W. was thrilled beyond expression to see her old friend standing in the kitchen. Forgetting her punishment, she bounded off the couch and ran with all her might, shouting, "Greta! Greta, it's you!"

"Well, hello, D.W.," gushed Greta, receiving the little girl in a warm embrace.

"Where's your horn?" asked D.W., looking up at the horse girl's gray-patched forehead.

"I, uh, forgot it," Greta answered. "I'm sorry, I know how much you wanted to hear me play it."

"I'm glad you came," said D.W. "Grandpa Dave was driving me crazy with his stories."

Greta followed her into the living room, where the old man had planted himself in the easy chair, walker standing ready in front. "Hello, little girl," he called to her. "What's your name?"

"I'm Greta von Horstein," she replied.

"Have I told you about my old horse?" said Grandpa Dave. "I can't remember her name, but she broke her leg once, and I fixed it up. My wife told me I should just shoot her and buy a new one, but…"

After spending half an hour listening to the old man's tales, Greta remembered that her younger friends were also present. "This has been fascinating," she told Grandpa Dave, "but I should get back to the others. They haven't seen me for so long."

"Have I told you about my old horse?" was the oldster's response.

D.W., noticing that Greta was taking leave from Grandpa Dave, rushed toward her with a stuffed bear in her hands. "I made this myself in first grade," she told her friend.

"Hello, little girl," said Grandpa Dave to D.W. "What's your name?"

The kids went through a game of Confuse the Goose, a pitcher of pink lemonade, and a tub of ice cream. Mrs. Read, seeing that night had come, asked Greta, "How are you getting home?"

"I was hoping to spend the night at Fern's," replied Greta, "or possibly at your house."

"Can she? Can she?" D.W. pleaded with her mother.

"That's a wonderful idea," said Fern, surreptitiously patting the stone in her pocket. _That means I can learn the truth about her in the morning._

"We don't have any spare rooms," said Mrs. Read.

"She can sleep in my bed," said D.W. "There's room for two."

"I'd be happy to," said Greta.

"You're welcome to if you want," Mrs. Read told her, "but I'm curious to know where your parents are."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Greta assured her.

She feared that D.W. would keep her awake with questions, but the aardvark girl fell asleep instantly. Greta shortly followed.

At 742 Evergreen Terrace in Springfield, the Simpsons were sleeping peacefully as well. Their house guest, however, was not.

_Here by the grace of God go I_, he thought while slipping silently out of Bart's bed. He had been granted free use of it, as Bart was in the habit of dozing on the couch while the TV played.

The street was lighted, but the starry sky seemed to shake a menacing fist at him. He paused to look back at the house he had left. _I wish I could stay with you, Lisa, but I don't dare. Too many people know about my powers, and I don't know if I can trust Bart to keep his mouth shut._

Tears filled his eyes as he walked in the direction of the Kwik-E-Mart, hoping to purchase a snack before leaving on the train. He didn't know where he would go, or who would take him in. He had relatives nearby, but they would almost certainly send him back to his parents.

For all intents and purposes, it was the last day of the world for him.

A voice called to him from the surrounding gloom. "Hey, kid."

He could make out only a pair of tall figures through his tear-soaked eyes. They came closer.

"It's dangerous to walk alone at night," one of the men told him. "Didn't your mama teach you that?"

_Muggers_, thought Alan. He wiped his eyes with his fingers. _No, worse. Policemen._

"I recognize him, Eddie," said one cop to the other. "He's one of the missing kids."

"Yeah, you're right, Lou," responded the second cop. "You can't mistake an Elwood City face."

"How'd you like to take a ride in a police car?" Officer Lou asked Alan.

"I'd rather not," the boy replied.

_I'd better try to talk my way out of this_, he thought. _I don't want to get addicted to using my powers._

"We've got donuts at the station," said Officer Eddie.

"I'm not hungry," Alan lied. "I've got to go."

_So much for talking my way out of this_, he thought as the squad car drove away with him in the back seat.

* * *

to be continued 


	17. I'm a Case File

The space on Chief Wiggum's desk was occupied primarily by a few half-empty boxes of donuts and Chief Wiggum's legs. The portly law enforcer was snoring loudly when officers Eddie and Lou entered the station, gently pushing Alan after them.

"Wake up, Chief," said Eddie. "We got something."

The chief's eyes flew open. "Huh…wha…what's going on?"

"We found a missing kid," Lou told him.

"That's good work, boys," said Wiggum, dropping his legs from the desk. "What's he charged with?"

"He's missing," replied Eddie.

Wiggum's chair swiveled as he rose to his feet. "Missing what?"

_These cops are idiots_, thought Alan. _I'll bet just telling them about my powers will be enough to scare them away._

"Look at the poster, Chief," said Lou, pointing at the wall. "Alan Powers. That's him."

Wiggum scrutinized the poster, then Alan's face. "Yeah, they do look alike," he remarked. "On the other hand, I've never been to Elwood City. For all I know, all the kids there look like him."

_I should come up with a false name and a phony story_, Alan thought. _I'm sure they'll buy it._ _Still, what will I accomplish that way? I'll just end up out in the cold again, with nowhere to go._

"Is that you?" Wiggum asked him. "Is your name Alan Powers?"

_Maybe I should give in. Maybe I should let them lock me up. Do I want to spend my whole life running, and hiding, and messing with people's memories?_

"Yes," he said with a tone of resignation. "My name is Alan Powers. That's my picture on the wall."

"Better hook him up to the lie detector, Chief," said Eddie.

Wiggum grabbed a cruller and started to munch on it. "So you're Alan Powers," he said indifferently. "I have special instructions regarding you."

_Oh, great_, the boy thought. _They're going to send me straight to an institution. I won't even get to see my parents!_

"Let him go," the chief ordered his men.

"Huh?" said Eddie and Lou in unison.

"I said, let him go," said Wiggum through another bite of donut. "Those are the special instructions."

The two cops looked quizzically at each other.

"You're letting me go?" said Alan, startled.

"That's right, kid," said Wiggum. "I'm sorry the boys dragged you in here. Take a box of donuts for your trouble."

Elated, Alan took the box offered him by the chief, and turned to leave the station.

"Well, don't just stand there," said Wiggum to his officers. "Make sure he has a place to stay. Put him up in a hotel if you have to."

As the befuddled cops departed, Chief Wiggum waddled over to a bureau and pulled a drawer open. A little boy with stringy hair poked his head out.

"I'm a case file," he said in a squeaky voice.

"It's way past your bedtime, Ralphie," said Wiggum. "Stop playing and go to sleep."

Alan's first act after being dropped off at the Simpsons' house was to shake Lisa awake.

"…and I'd like to also thank Stephen Hawking, without whose inspiration my Hurricane Eradicator would have never…huh?"

"It's me, Lisa," said Alan quietly.

The girl sat upright. "What's wrong?"

"I tried to run away," Alan admitted. "The police caught me and took me to the station, but the police chief let me go."

Lisa's sleepy eyes widened with confusion.

"He knew who I was," Alan added, "but he let me go anyway. I don't understand it."

Lisa sighed. "He was paid off," she said with certainty.

"You mean bribed?" said Alan.

"No, I mean he made the last installment payment on his account, and doesn't owe any more. Yes, I mean bribed."

"But who would do that?" Alan wondered.

Lisa suddenly gaped.

"What?"

"I called Professor Frink today," she told Alan. "He said he would do something to help you avoid trouble with your family and the police. I guess that's what he was talking about."

"You mean…Frink paid the police chief to not arrest me?"

Lisa nodded.

"But why?" said Alan, semi-stunned. "Does he really want me around that badly?"

"Well, you _are_ the first person he's encountered with weird mental powers."

Try as he might, Alan could make no sense of Lisa's suggestion. Finally he gave up. "I'm going to bed," he told the girl.

"Good night, Alan," said Lisa sweetly. "Next time you run away, let me come with you."

Alan went back to Bart's bed and spent the remainder of the night lying awake.

* * *

to be continued 


	18. Falling into Darkness

It was Thursday morning, and D.W. had enjoyed the best sleep of her life. Opening her eyes, she saw that the happy dream wasn't over—her good friend Greta was still in the bed next to her.

She aroused the girl without hesitation. "Greta!" she whispered excitedly. "I had a wonderful dream. I dreamed I was a unicorn!"

"That's wonnerful, D.W.," mumbled Greta as she yawned and stretched.

"Only I wasn't a unicorn like you," D.W. went on. "I was a unicorn with hooves and everything. I ran around through the forest, and I ate grass, and sometimes I pooped in the grass."

Greta smiled. "You're such a funny girl," she gushed, rubbing D.W.'s hair with her knuckles. "You remind me of myself when I was forty."

Mrs. Read served the girls an early breakfast at the dining table. "I hate oatmeal," said D.W., poking at the mush with her spoon. "Don't you, Greta?"

"I love it," said the horse girl.

"Nobody's perfect," said D.W.

While Greta was shoveling oatmeal into her mouth, Pal scampered into the kitchen, yelping, and began to paw at her stockings. Glaring down at the little dog, she let out an unearthly howl, prompting Pal to flee in terror.

"Why'd you do that?" D.W. asked her.

"Did you hear what he called me?" was Greta's response.

"I hope you can make it to your school on time," Mrs. Read said to Greta while spooning more brown sugar on D.W.'s oatmeal.

"I've got plenty of time," Greta assured her. "I even have enough time to say goodbye to Fern."

"Are you leaving already?" said D.W. disappointedly.

"I have a life to go on with," said Greta with a tender smile. "But I'll see you again soon."

"How soon?" asked D.W.

"Sooner than you'd like." Greta giggled.

D.W. struggled to hold back her tears as Greta bid her farewell with a kiss on the forehead. Within minutes the horse girl was at the door of Fern's house, ready to say goodbye to another dear friend.

The two girls hugged long and tight. "I hope you'll visit more often, now that Mr. Baker's gone," said Fern.

"I will," said Greta. "I promise."

"Have a good trip home," said Fern as she waved the girl away.

Then she closed the door…and grinned sinisterly.

Greta walked six blocks in the direction of downtown Elwood City, apparently oblivious to the poodle girl dogging her steps. Fern concentrated hard, determined to stay on Greta's tail and keep willing herself invisible. _This is so much more exciting than going to fifth grade_, she thought, gripping the stone firmly. _I hope I don't have to follow her all across town. If she lives so far away, why doesn't she ask her parents to drive her? Does she even live with her parents? Did she run away from them when she discovered her powers?_

Greta went on four more blocks, then crossed the street and entered a lot where an old bank building had been demolished. Fern hurried after her, tiptoeing so that the girl wouldn't hear her footsteps. After glancing in all directions, Greta hid herself behind the rear wall. _Don't tell me she lives here_, thought Fern as she crept carefully through the tall yellow grass and fallen bricks.

Behind the ruined building she saw nothing but weeds and a few bags of smelly garbage. Greta was nowhere.

Fern stifled a gasp. _All right, so she's gone. Don't panic_. _She could be hiding somewhere, or maybe…invisible._

Breathing shallowly, cautious not to bend the grass, she shuffled to and fro in search of a crack in the wall, a ladder to the ceiling, or some other route Greta might have used to escape. Just as she neared the plastic garbage bags, the ground seemed to dissolve under her feet.

In an instant she was falling through darkness. Before she had a chance to scream, her feet collided with soft ground, then her back.

Relieved that the fall had been short, but worried she might have soiled her dress, Fern pushed herself up with one arm and straightened her knees to stand. Looking up, she was amazed to observe that the sunlight had been completely blocked out. _It's like a hidden cave with a swinging door_, she thought. _But where does it lead?_ _Could other Brainchildren be hiding down here?_

She walked silently toward the faint light that came from her left side; the soil was moist beneath her sneakers. She couldn't see where the cavernous corridor ended, nor could she make out Greta's image. _If I don't keep up with her, I may get lost_, she thought anxiously. Lengthening her stride, she quickly arrived at a bend in the passageway.

She rounded it, only to find herself face-to-face with Greta's back.

The horse girl turned and stared at her with an expression of shock and anger. It was then Fern realized that the dim light had been emanating from the golden spiral horn attached to Greta's forehead.

"Fern! You shouldn't be here! Get out, now!"

_Oh, crud_, Fern said to herself. _I dropped the invisibility stone when I fell into the cave_.

"How did you follow me without being seen?" asked Greta, her voice almost at panic pitch.

"So you _are_ a unicorn," said Fern bravely. "Are there others like you?"

"I'm not answering any questions," said Greta, folding her arms. "Now go back the way you came, or you'll be sorry."

Fern lowered her eyes meekly. "Okay, Greta. It's better if I don't know your secrets."

She swiveled slowly and walked away from the outraged girl. Once around the corner, she looked back and saw that Greta was moving further into the cave, the yellow light from her horn illuminating the muddy walls.

Then she sprinted forward with all her strength. She passed Greta on the right side and kept going. "Fern, stop!" the horse girl cried after her.

_This is stupid_, thought Fern/Tegan as she hurtled through the corridor. _I don't have any powers in this body, and God knows what I'll encounter at the end of this cave…_

* * *

to be continued 


	19. Dirty Pictures

School was beginning, and Fern's presence was sorely missed.

"Have you seen Fern?" the harried-looking Binky asked Francine.

"Nope," the girl replied. "Not since last night."

"What about you, Van?" said Binky to his wheelchair-bound friend. "Have you seen Fern anywhere?"

"Sorry, can't help you," was the duck boy's response.

Binky took a position at the head of the classroom and waved his arms. "Attention, everyone!" he bellowed. "I need to find Fern. It's important!"

All the kids gave him a blank stare. "What do you need her for?" asked Mrs. Krantz.

"We're recording another Mary Moo Cow episode tonight," Binky answered, "and there's no one to do the voice of Mini Moo. If we don't find someone, I'll have to communicate with the audience through hand signals."

"She'll show up soon," the teacher assured him. "Now go back to your desk, okaaaay?"

The first-period history lesson ended, and Fern still hadn't shown up.

Binky, concerned that his show-business career might be derailed, went to the one candidate he had hoped to avoid—Mickie Chanel.

"Yeah, I auditioned for the role of Mini Moo," she told him. "But I didn't really want the role. I just wanted to win."

Infuriated by Mickie's arrogance, Binky reared back and launched a fist into her nose.

While he was fantasizing, Francine approached him with a worried look. "Hey, Francine," he greeted her. "You have a nice singing voice. How'd you like to…"

"I have a confession to make," the girl said meekly.

Binky fell silent without closing his mouth.

"The candy Dolly gave to Wyatt had a love potion in it," Francine told him. "Yes, _that_ love potion."

"Uh…buh…" Binky stammered.

"We wanted to find out if he was really gay, or just confused," Francine went on. "We expected him to fall in love with either you or Dolly, but it had a different effect on him. I don't know, maybe it gave him diarrhea."

"Uh…buh…" Binky repeated.

"I don't know why he quit," said Francine apologetically. "I called him, but he didn't want to talk about it."

Still unsure what to think, Binky turned and walked away silently. Francine followed. "If only Fern were here," she mused. "She'd never fail Mrs. Stiles—the two of them are so close."

"Wait a minute," said Binky, abruptly facing her.

"What?"

Binky rolled his eyes back and forth, as was his habit when in deep thought. "The potion _did_ work, Francine. Think about it. Either he fell in love with Dolly, or he fell in love with me. In either case he'd be ashamed, since Dolly's a girl, and I'm not gay. That's why he ran."

"Then why did he quit?" Francine wondered.

Binky thought for another second, then slapped his forehead and groaned.

"Oh, gosh…oh gosh, oh gosh…"

Francine dreaded the next thing her friend would say.

"He fell in love with _me_. That's why he quit—so he wouldn't have to see me again."

Too angry with herself to face Binky, Francine walked away rapidly. _This is all my fault,_ she said bitterly to herself. _After the mess I caused the first time I asked Dolly for a love potion, like a fool I asked her for another one!_

So flustered was she that Jenna outscored her in the second-period basketball game. Even as she was taking off her athletic clothes in the girls' locker, the same desperate thought repeated itself in her mind: _Where is Fern?_

"Where is Fern?" said Mrs. Taylor impatiently. "She said this wouldn't happen again."

She asked around in the shower, but not one of the girls had a clue to Fern's whereabouts.

_If she doesn't show soon_, thought Francine as she rubbed herself with a towel, _I'll have to take it on myself to make things right._

Her ruminations were interrupted by a sudden scream of terror. She whirled.

Across the room, the frightened Beat was scrambling to lay a towel between her naked body and the fully clothed D.W., who was training a small camera on her. The little girl snapped one photo after another.

"Dora Winifred Read!" cried Beat indignantly.

"Beatrice Margaret Simon!" D.W. shot back.

"Look what she's doing!" exclaimed Sue Ellen.

"How rude!" shouted Muffy. "Get that camera away from her!"

Before the girls could catch her, D.W. scampered from the locker room with her camera, yelling, "I'm gonna post these on the Internet!"

No one chased her, since nearly everyone in the room was at least partially undressed.

"She caught _everything_ on film," said Beat, who appeared she might cry.

"Who put her up to that?" Jenna wanted to know.

"What's going on?" asked Mrs. Taylor, who had stepped out of her office to witness the commotion.

"D.W. took dirty pictures of Beat," Francine told her.

"I'll tell the principal," said the gym teacher. "We don't tolerate those antics here."

While the girls comforted Beat over her embarrassment, D.W. hurried to her rendezvous point with Rattles, located in a patch of bushes.

"How many pictures did you get?" Rattles asked her.

"Three," D.W. replied. "Wait…no, ten. I can't count."

"Good job, kid," said Rattles. "You'll get at least three days' detention for this prank."

"Are we really gonna put the pictures on the Internet?" asked D.W.

"Naw," said Rattles as he opened the camera and pulled out the film.

* * *

Fern finally appeared in the classroom at the start of third period; she wore a carefree smile, as if her absence had never happened.

"Fern, where have you been?" said Francine, slamming her hands down on the girl's desk.

"That's on a need-to-know basis," said Fern flippantly, "and I'm not telling you."

"Mrs. Stiles needs your help," said Francine accusingly. "Are you going back to the studio after school, or not?"

Behind Fern's indifferent countenance, two personalities were arguing.

_I can't let Jean down. We've been friends for so long. She means a lot to me._

_I think she'll understand that you're doing this for the Brainchildren—for Alan. Once I'm out of your brain, you can do what you want_.

"Wyatt quit because of something I did," Francine told her, "and I'm sorry. If you won't help out Mrs. Stiles, I will."

_Francine as Mini Moo?_

"You don't want that," Francine went on. "I haven't prepared myself."

_Crud_, thought Fern. _Now what?_

* * *

to be continued 


	20. Francine Apologizes

Francine stopped Muffy just as the kids were leaving the classroom for morning recess. "I hate to ask again, but can I use your cell phone?" she requested.

"I've only used up 12,000 minutes this month," said Muffy, handing her the phone. "So, what the hey."

Leaning against the side wall of the school, Francine dialed the Marymu Studios number she had obtained from Fern.

"Hello, Mrs. Stiles? This is Francine."

"Hello, Francine," came the woman's delighted voice. "It's nice to hear from you. Thanks for coming to…"

"I want to take over as Mini Moo," Francine told her. "It's my fault Wyatt quit, and I want to make it right."

There was a pause on the line. "That's generous of you, Francine. But I don't need a voice for Mini Moo anymore."

"Why not?"

"The writers have eliminated Mini Moo's speaking parts," Mrs. Stiles explained. "Binky will still get to dance in the background and appear in group scenes, but his character won't have any lines."

"Uh…won't the kids notice?" said Francine in a tone of concern.

"We're talking about three- and four-year-olds," was Mrs. Stiles' response. "A minor character can stop talking, and they won't know the difference."

"You don't have to do this," said Francine earnestly. "I'll take the part. All I need is a little rehearsal…"

"Don't trouble yourself, Francine."

The call ended, and Francine squeezed the cell phone in her fingers, berating herself for what she had done to Wyatt. _Nothing left to do but apologize to him_, she thought.

She ran across Arthur while going to return the phone to Muffy. "Have you seen my sister?" the boy asked her.

"No," Francine replied. "But if I find her, I'll give her a swift kick in the pants for you."

"I don't know where she got the idea to take pictures of Beat naked," said Arthur. "It wasn't from anyone in the family, that's for sure."

"Has she made any new friends or met any new people lately?" asked Francine.

"Only Dr. Fugue," Arthur replied, "and only for one lesson."

"You don't suppose Dr. Fugue's a…a…"

"Dirty old man?"

"Yeah."

Arthur pondered for a second. "I dunno…I took lessons from him, and he never tried to get me to do anything like that."

"But you're a boy," Francine pointed out.

"Right," said Arthur. "Maybe…maybe he likes to look at pictures of girls."

Francine shuddered.

"I'd better talk to Mom and Dad about him," said Arthur with determination.

Spying on the pair from behind a large tree were D.W. and Rattles, who found it hard not to snicker.

"Arthur and Francine sitting in a tree…" D.W. chanted quietly.

"(Bleep)-I-N-G," Rattles added.

"I got three days' detention for taking those pictures," D.W. told her new friend.

"I'm proud of you," said Rattles.

"The best part is," said D.W., "I don't have to do anything bad for three days. Three _school_ days."

"You do know that detention days are cumulative, right?" said Rattles.

"What's cumulative?"

"That means if you get three days' detention today, and three days' detention tomorrow, you have six days' detention altogether."

D.W. stared blankly at him.

"It's like apples," Rattles told her.

"Oh," said D.W. when she understood. "So I _don't_ have to wait three days to get in trouble again."

"That's right," said Rattles. "And I know something that'll get you in _lots_ of trouble."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

* * *

At the end of the school day, Fern and Buster held hands as they walked down the street away from the school. 

"I'm glad you don't have to go to the studio," Buster remarked. "Now we can see each other more."

"Yeah," Fern agreed. "Spending more time together is one of the keys to successful relationships for young couples, according to Weekly Reader."

Meanwhile, D.W. returned home with Arthur to a cold reception from her parents.

"Principal Haney told me what you did in the girls' locker," Mrs. Read scolded the girl. "That was very, very wrong, and you'll have to be punished."

"You're right, Mom," said D.W. meekly. "I shouldn't have hurt Beat's feelings like that. I deserve to be punished. But please, Mom, please…don't punish me by taking away my piano lessons!"

"Okay," said Mrs. Read.

_Darn_, thought D.W. with a scowl. _Reverse psychology is so overrated_.

"Go to your room, young lady," Mrs. Read ordered her.

"I'm not a young lady!" D.W. protested.

"You will be, by the time I let you out of your room," said her mother.

She watched D.W. trudge up the stairway, then turned to Arthur. "All the time she's spending in detention is getting in the way of her lessons," she commented. "At first she hated going to Dr. Fugue, but now it seems like she _wants_ to go. I'll have to ask Frederick if he can arrange for her to take lessons at a different time."

"Uh, about that, Mom…" said Arthur.

"Yes, dear?"

"I've been wondering why D.W. keeps getting in trouble at school. Seems it all started when she went to Dr. Fugue for her first lesson. You don't suppose that…that he's having a bad influence on her?"

Mrs. Read shook her head. "Frederick Fugue is a fine, upstanding man. That business with the two violinist sisters is far behind him. If you ask me, D.W. can only become a better person by taking lessons from him."

Arthur could think of nothing more to say; indeed, he wished he could unsay what he had just said.

"It's true, he's a perfectionist," his mother continued. "But he has a right to be one, because he's the best piano teacher in Elwood City."

_

* * *

Stupid love potion,_ thought Francine_. I should just stay away from witches and magic from now on._

The chair seemed cold underneath her as she stared at the telephone on the wall. _I must call him. I need to apologize. Maybe I can't help him, but I'll have the satisfaction of knowing I did the right thing._

She finally stood up, wrapped her fingers around the receiver, and hesitantly dialed the number. "Hello, is Wyatt there?"

"Just a minute," replied a woman's voice.

A minute passed. "Hello, this is Wyatt."

"Wyatt, this is Francine. I…I…I'm sorry."

"Sorry? What did you do?"

"Remember the chocolate candy Dolly gave you? It had a love potion in it. That's what made you fall in love with Binky. So don't worry, you're not gay for him."

Francine heard a sigh on the other end. "That's a relief," came Wyatt's voice.

"I really ruined things for you," Francine went on. "Now you won't be able to continue as Mini Moo's voice."

"No biggie," said Wyatt nonchalantly. "I'm working on other projects as well."

Francine smiled; the worry in her heart subsided. "I hope we can be friends," she told Wyatt.

"I hope so too," was the boy's response. "Because I'd like to borrow some of Dolly's love potion. You see, there's this gay kid at my school, and he doesn't know I exist."

"Goodbye, Wyatt," said Francine, hanging up the receiver.

She sank back into her chair and groaned. _Did I do the right thing?_ she wondered.

* * *

Alan's eyelids creaked open. It was Friday morning, and he had enjoyed little sleep. Anxiety about the Brainchildren, his own powers, and the odd manner in which Professor Frink had dealt with him had kept him awake through most of the night. 

He had brought only one set of clothes with him, and Marge was washing them. A red shirt and pair of pants that had once belonged to Bart fit him acceptably, if a bit loosely. He laced up his sneakers and shuffled into the hallway, feeling as if he had died and become a zombie sometime around 3 a.m.

He caught a glimpse of Lisa in her room, still snoring, her face turned away from him.

Something was different.

He tiptoed closer to the girl's bed. He was within two feet of the mattress, and the something that had been different was still different.

_I don't believe it_, he thought. _It can't be this good. What if I try waking her up?_

He gently tapped on Lisa's shoulder. The spiky-haired girl mumbled, turned over, and opened her round eyes to face him.

"Something wrong, Alan?"

The girl's memories were no longer an open book to him. Indeed, he couldn't perceive them at all.

"No, Lisa," he said in a reverent whisper. "Something's _right._ I think I've lost my powers."

* * *

to be continued 


	21. Phone Home

"Give me a number between one and one hundred," said Marge.

"Sixty-nine," was Alan's choice.

"Now try to make me forget what it is."

Alan strained and concentrated, but no fields of sagebrush and juniper appeared in his mind's eye. An act that would have been trivial for him the day before was now impossible, as if he had lost the use of a limb.

"Is it sixty-nine?" Marge asked him.

"Yeah," replied Alan with satisfaction. "I couldn't see your memories at all. I don't know how, but I'm cured."

"Now make me forget the answers to today's history test," Bart requested.

"Grover Cleveland," said Lisa.

"Argh!" said Bart in frustration. "Lisa, I wanted _him_ to do it!"

"I'm a normal person again," said Alan, grinning as he stood up.

"I nowmal perfon agin," babbled Maggie, rising in imitation of him.

"Do you suppose it's because of something Professor Frink did?" Lisa suggested.

"He didn't _do_ anything," said Alan.

"Maybe some sort of trigger event activated your powers, and they wore off after a time," Lisa theorized.

"That could be," Alan mused. "I first discovered them when I was merged with Tegan. Maybe they'll come back if I merge with her again—which will be never, if I have anything to say about it."

Overjoyed, Lisa walked across the living room to her friend and embraced him tenderly. "I'm so glad you're a mere mortal again," she gushed.

"Yeah, now you can get the hell out of here," joked Bart.

Lisa pulled her arms away from Alan and gazed at him with gleaming eyes. "Call your parents," she urged him. "They must be worried about you."

"I, uh, don't want to shock them," said Alan. "I'll call my friend Prunella, and have her pass on the good news to them."

"Prunella?" said Bart with a grimace. "That girl is one straw short of a cuckoo's nest. When we were there, she predicted that I'd never amount to anything. Boy, was she wrong."

Wasting no time, Alan picked up the phone in the kitchen and punched Prunella's number.

"Hello?" came the girl's voice.

"Hi, Prunella, it's Alan," said the boy.

"Omigosh, Alan!" exclaimed Prunella. "Are you all right? Where are you?"

"I'm just fine," Alan replied. "I want you to go to my parents and tell them I'm coming home."

Prunella's voice quivered anxiously. "I don't think that's a good idea. The Brainchildren are looking for you here. They've gotten to Fern."

Alan nearly choked from the terror that something bad might have happened to Fern.

"She's different," Prunella went on. "I think Tegan changed her personality. She's constantly on my case about you. And you won't believe this, but she and Buster are girlfriend and boyfriend now."

_Fern and Buster…?_

"I'll find out what's happened to her," said Alan angrily. "I'll call her myself."

Having bid a quick farewell to Prunella, Alan hastily dialed Fern's number. The voice on the line was that of Mr. Walters.

"I'd like to speak to Fern," said Alan.

"She's taking a bath right now," Mr. Walters told him.

"Tell her Alan Powers wants to talk to her."

Alan waited breathlessly. Over the phone he heard the sound of splashing water and the high-pitched, eager words of a little girl.

"Normally I wouldn't get out of the tub to answer the phone," he heard Fern's voice speaking. "But I'll make an exception for you."

"Am I speaking to Fern, or Tegan?" said Alan.

"Take your pick," Fern answered. "We're both in here."

Alan's anger intensified. "This is between you and me, Tegan," he snapped. "You should've left Fern out of it."

"But she fit so well into our plan," said Fern confidently. "When I looked into your mind, she was always the first girl I saw. I know you have feelings for her. I know you don't want her to be hurt."

"Make her the way she was again!" Alan demanded.

"_You_ make her the way she was again," was Fern's response. "You're the only one with the power."

The indignation in Alan's heart turned to hopelessness. "What do you want?" he asked weakly.

"You'll see," replied Fern. "Tomorrow at noon, go to the Department of Applied Science of the Springfield Heights Institute of Technology, to the laboratory of Professor John Frink."

"_Frink?_" Alan blurted out.

The pieces were starting to come together…

"How long has Frink been on your side?" Alan wanted to know.

"I…or rather, Tegan first met him two years ago at Ballford. She knew that he supported freedom for the Brainchildren, so after you wiped Ray's mind, she sought him out in the hope he'd become their new leader. How do you know him?"

"I, er, ah, studied his work," said Alan haltingly.

"You're lucky," said Fern. "Remember, tomorrow at noon, Springfield Tech Department of Applied Science, Frink's laboratory. Come alone. You'll get the chance to erase Tegan from my mind, and then you'll take your place at our side."

Despair robbing him of speech, Alan slowly lowered the receiver. _Those devils!_ he thought bitterly. _They've taken Fern's mind away from her, and with my powers gone, I can't do a thing about it!_

Lisa had never seen the boy so distraught. "Bad news?" she said, trying to be helpful.

Alan only gazed at her through moistening eyes.

Finally he swallowed and lifted his chin up. "Get me the number of Ballford Preparatory School in Elwood City," he commanded.

"But, Alan," said Lisa, "isn't that the place you're trying to stay away from?"

"Not anymore," said Alan, masking his sadness with a brave façade. "Even if I'm too late to save Fern, I can still put the Brainchildren out of business."

* * *

to be continued 


	22. Greta Comes to Call Again

At school, Prunella was bursting with the desire to tell her classmates and friends that Alan had phoned her, and was apparently alive. Yet she didn't dare, as she had promised Alan to keep the details of his departure a secret. The only person she would talk to about the subject was Fern, who already knew.

"So the basic idea is," said Prunella, "Alan gets to erase Tegan's personality from your mind, but only if he agrees to have it copied into _his_ mind."

"Not even," said Fern with a chuckle. "Tegan's personality would _not_ enjoy being inside a boy."

"Whatever you're planning to do to him," said Prunella fearlessly, "you'll have to get past me first, and I'm impervious to your Brainchild powers."

"It didn't look that way when Claire froze you to the spot with her telekinesis," Fern remarked.

In the cafeteria, Rattles and D.W. were standing by the wall near the entrance to the kitchen. Periodically Rattles glanced inside to see Mrs. McGrady, her back turned to him, putting together ingredients for a large batch of brownies.

"Here's what you do," said Rattles, holding out a silver bowl to D.W. "When Mrs. McGrady leaves the kitchen to go to the bathroom or whatever, you take this bowl inside, and dump it into the brownie batter."

D.W. curiously examined the bowl, which contained a dark brown, viscous fluid. "What is that stuff?" she inquired.

"Um, it's a special kind of chocolate," said Rattles, shaking the bowl to make the liquid wobble. "Adding it to the brownies will make them super-chocolatey."

"Mmm," said D.W., licking her lips. "Super-chocolatey brownies."

"Think you're up to it?" said Rattles, trying to push the bowl into her hands.

"I, uh, guess so," said D.W., looking back and forth between Rattles' glowering face and Mrs. McGrady's backside.

"Then don't let me keep you," said Rattles as he sauntered off.

Butterflies multiplied in D.W.'s heart as she gazed at the oblivious lunch lady and clutched the slightly warm bowl. _Why am I afraid?_ she wondered. _It's only chocolate._

Five minutes later Mrs. McGrady laid down her can of cocoa powder and muttered to herself, "Oh, dear, I've got shortening all over my hands."

As she strolled out of the kitchen, D.W. tiptoed in, breathing quietly. The blender loomed large above her. _I'm six years old, but I'm still too short_, she thought.

Seeing a wooden footstool nearby, she carefully placed the bowl of chocolate on the floor, and pulled the stool closer to the counter. When she looked at the silver bowl again, a disturbing thought struck her.

_Why should I get detention for making the brownies more chocolatey?_

It seemed like a contradiction—but it had to be right, since a sixth-grade expert on detention had told it to her.

_Maybe it's not really chocolate_, she thought. _Maybe it's an evil potion…_

She imagined Arthur and his classmates enjoying themselves at the fund-raising party, as various grownups including Ed Crosswire wrote checks for enormous amounts and deposited them into a paper bag marked DONATIONS.

After thanking Mr. Crosswire for his generosity, Arthur snatched up a brownie from a plate and took a bite out of it. As sooner as he had done so, his pupils shrank, his jaw dropped, and his arms flew up and pointed forward. "Must help prepare Earth for alien invasion force," he droned.

_Naw_, thought D.W. _Where would Rattles get an evil potion?_

In the ladies' room, Mrs. McGrady lathered up her hands and rinsed them for the fourth time. "Oh, my, there's still a spot of shortening," she said, and put her hands under the water again.

_Maybe it's poison_, D.W. theorized. _Maybe Rattles doesn't care whether I get detention. Maybe he really wants to stop the school from building a new auditorium, because he buried his victims under the old one…_

"Look at all these germs," grumbled Mrs. McGrady, staring at her hands. "It's a wonder I'm not constantly sick."

As she washed again, Rodentia Ratburn strolled into the ladies' room. "Excuse me, Sarah," she said to the lunch lady, "but could you please hand me a few paper towels?"

Mrs. McGrady looked over her shoulder at the rat woman, then looked back at her soapy hands. "I'm sorry," she said slowly. "I…I can't."

_Anything could happen if I put this stuff in the brownies_, thought D.W. _Maybe I shouldn't do this—but I need the detention!_

While the little girl agonized, Mrs. McGrady applied soap to her hands for the twenty-eighth time. "Stubborn little buggers," she groused.

_I can't go through with it_, D.W. told herself.

She wandered back into the lunchroom, still carrying the aluminum bowl. Intending to pour the chocolate concoction down the sink of the girls' room, she instead ran into Fern and Buster, who were kissing in the middle of the court.

"Hey, D.W.," said the rabbit boy. "Whatcha got in the bowl? Is that…chocolate?"

"Uh, yeah," D.W. replied, "but…"

She had no time to discourage Buster from sticking his finger into the chocolate mixture, then into his mouth to suck it off.

"Mmm, that's chocolicious," said Buster wistfully. "Try some, Fern."

"I don't know," said his girlfriend warily.

_I'm a kid again_, thought the Tegan part of her. _I may as well live a little._

"I think you'd better wait and see if Buster starts mutating," D.W. warned her.

"Silly girl," said Fern, taking a dab of the chocolate on her finger and licking it off.

Anxious to dispose of the substance before anyone else was tempted, D.W. ran off to the girls' washroom.

"It's probably for the brownies Mrs. McGrady's making," Fern mused.

"Yeah," Buster agreed, and they kissed again.

Then, both at once, they felt an uncomfortable sensation. "Excuse me," they said to each other.

Leaping up from the bench, Buster made a beeline for the boy's room, Fern following close behind. Recognizing her mistake, Fern quickly stepped out of the boy's room and into the girls' room.

* * *

Unaware that she had averted a disaster, D.W. scowled while climbing into her mother's car after another hour spent in detention.

"You've been very bad lately," said Mrs. Read. "You're lucky I'm letting you go to the fund-raiser tonight."

"Don't worry, Mom," said D.W. emotionlessly. "I won't be bad anymore."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," said her mother.

They drove quietly together for a moment. "I guess I should tell you the truth," said D.W. "I wanted detention so I wouldn't have to take lessons from Dr. Fugue."

Mrs. Read gave her statement a second's thought, then began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" asked her daughter.

"You," Mrs. Read replied. "That was a clever idea, D.W. Misguided, but clever."

"Not clever enough," said the little aardvark girl.

"But if you'd bothered to ask me," said her mother, "you'd know that Dr. Fugue doesn't want to teach you."

D.W. gaped in surprise.

"I called him today," Mrs. Read continued. "He told me that he only takes motivated students, and you're not motivated."

"Am too!" D.W. insisted. "Uh, what does motivated mean?"

"Of course, that's his opinion, not mine," said her mother. "I think you'll enjoy piano lessons, if you take them from a teacher who'll let you learn at your own pace."

"So I did those mean things for nothing," D.W. lamented.

"On Monday you should apologize to Beat and Molly," said Mrs. Read.

"I will," D.W. promised.

She had little time to ponder her good fortune, for when she entered the house with her mother, she saw Greta sitting on the couch with Arthur and Francine.

"Greta!" she cried. "You've come back!"

"Hello, D.W.," said Greta pleasantly. "By all means, come in and pounce on me."

Once D.W. had hopped into her lap, Greta made a gesture to Arthur and Francine. The four children marched dutifully up the stairs to Arthur's room, with D.W. riding gleefully on Greta's shoulders.

Once they had closed the door, the get-together took a serious turn.

"All right, Greta," said Francine. "What kind of help do you need from us?"

Greta gazed earnestly at the others. "You three are the only ones I can trust with my secrets," she told them. "That's why I want you to come with me tomorrow."

"Where to?" asked Arthur.

"Springfield," was Greta's reply. "Your friend Alan is in danger."

* * *

to be continued 


	23. Preparing for the Worst

"Alan's in Springfield?" said Francine in astonishment.

"What's he doing, hanging out with the Simpsons?" Arthur wondered.

"How do you know, Greta?" asked D.W.

"I have my sources," replied Greta as her golden horn slowly became visible.

"What kind of danger are we talking about?" Francine asked her. "Mortal danger?"

Greta shook her head. "The Brainchildren want him alive, so they can subvert him to their cause."

"Brainchildren?" said Arthur. "Who are they?"

"Fugitives from the law," Greta answered. "Or rather, from a world that fears and hates them."

"Whoa, hold it!" Francine blurted out. "You're starting to scare me. If you want our help, you'll have to tell us exactly what we're getting ourselves into."

Greta sighed impatiently.

"I agree with Francine," said Arthur.

"I don't," said D.W. "With Greta around, nothing scares me—not even Dr. Fugue."

"All right," said Greta calmly. "The Brainchildren are a group of young people with superhuman mental powers. You've already met one of them—Alan's sister, Tegan. They were institutionalized in special schools, until a master thief named Raymond Mansch broke them out."

"What do they want with Alan?" asked Arthur.

"It turns out that Alan has powers too," Greta went on. "That's why he ran away. He doesn't want to be locked up, and he doesn't want to join the Brainchildren. The problem is, the Brainchildren want him to join them, and they can be very persuasive."

"How are we supposed to fight them if they have super powers?" asked Francine.

"I don't intend to fight them," Greta answered. "I intend to reason with them. Your assistance, and the fact that I have a friend on the inside, will make that task easier."

* * *

Lisa's hand trembled as she lifted the phone receiver.

"Ng'hey, Professor Frink speaking."

"Professor?" said Lisa. "It's me. I know about your connection with the Brainchildren, and I know what you have planned for Alan. I want you to leave him alone."

There was a brief silence on the line, punctuated by a few faint _hoyvens_.

"I'll make you a deal, Lisa," Frink spoke up. "You stay out of this, and I'll treat you to dinner at the nicest vegetarian buffet in town."

The prospect was tempting, but Lisa had to say, "No."

"A full-ride scholarship to the women's college of your choice," Frink offered.

"I'll get that anyway," said Lisa.

"Immortality," said Frink. "That's my final offer."

"You can't buy me out, Professor," said Lisa indignantly. "And if Alan suffers because of you, I'll quit my job as your assistant."

"Fine," said Frink. "I'll throw in eternal beauty."

Lisa slammed the receiver down.

Her voice quivered as she reported her findings to Alan. "I can't believe the professor would condone what the Brainchildren are doing."

"Neither can I," said Alan dolefully.

"They'll stop coming after you if you tell them your powers are gone," said Lisa, rubbing the bear boy's shoulders.

"No," said Alan, shaking his head. "I don't want them to suspect anything when I show up with a squad of Elwood City police officers hiding in the bushes."

"Let me come with you," Lisa pleaded. "At least to watch what happens."

Alan turned and faced the girl, concern in his eyes. "There could be trouble. If the Brainchildren are backed into a corner, they'll come out fighting. Claire's a telekinetic—she can send you flying into a wall. But the most dangerous of all is C.V. He can make you experience fear so intense that your brain shuts right down. The officers will have to wear special headgear to protect themselves from him."

"I'm not afraid," said Lisa confidently. "But just in case, do your friends in the ECPD have an extra set of anti-Brainchild headgear?"

* * *

to be continued 


	24. The Muffytorium

The fund-raising party attracted a moderate crowd, mostly students and their parents, to the Lakewood gymnasium. The guests enjoyed brownies without incident, something which made Rattles increasingly suspicious.

"Hey, D.W.," he whispered hoarsely to the little girl. "I don't see anybody running to the bathroom."

"Er…uh…" D.W. stammered, backing away toward the punchbowl.

Rattles tightened his fists. "You didn't add the extra chocolate to the brownie batter, did you?" he snarled.

"N-no," admitted D.W.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't crush you like a bug," said Rattles, advancing on the frightened girl.

"I ate it!" cried D.W. "I couldn't help it! It smelled so good, and it tasted so good, but it made me sick. I was on the toilet for hours."

Rattles' face softened. "You…you…_ate_ it?" he muttered incredulously.

D.W. nodded. "Got any more?"

"Omigosh," said Rattles, shaking his head. "I can't crush you. You've suffered enough."

At the other end of the gym, Arthur was receiving a visit from his former teacher, Mr. Ratburn, and his wife, Carla.

"I'm impressed that you were able to organize all this," said Mr. Ratburn.

"I can't take all the credit," said Arthur. "Mr. Haney did most of the work. All I did was make flyers…no, wait, George did that…"

"I hope they name the new auditorium after you," said Carla. "After that, I hope they build a new gymnasium and name it after you."

"I wouldn't count on it," said Arthur. "They'll name the auditorium after whoever donates the most money."

Muffy, standing nearby with her parents, overheard the news with joy. "Mom! Dad!" she exclaimed. "If you give more money than anyone else, the new auditorium will be named after us! It'll be called the Muffytorium!"

"That's wonderful, dear," said Mrs. Crosswire.

"Dad!" said Muffy excitedly. "Get your checkbook, quick, before the opportunity passes!"

"Well, now, Muffin," said Mr. Crosswire, patting his daughter's head, "are you sure you wouldn't rather have a shiny new limousine?"

"Of course not," said Muffy. "We're getting a new limo anyway."

Mr. Crosswire glanced at his wife, then down at Muffy again. "You don't understand, princess," he said in a serious tone. "The Chanels have already pledged ten thousand dollars to the auditorium fund. If I go over that, we won't be able to afford the limo."

The word _afford_ stung Muffy's ears like acid; she wasn't sure she had ever heard her father utter it before.

"Oh, sweetie," said Mrs. Crosswire, hugging her consternated little girl. "We can't throw money around anymore. You need to get used to that."

"I'd be glad to donate to the fund, Muffin," said Mr. Crosswire, "as long as you don't mind riding around in a Mitsubishi."

"There'd be plenty of room for all of us in a Mitsubishi," his wife remarked.

Too depressed for words, Muffy simply walked away. _We must be really, really poor now,_ she thought. _It used to be, when I liked two dresses the same, Mom would buy me both. But now, if I want a new limo to take the place of the old one, I have to give up everything else I want. Oh, why? Why did my poor old limo have to drown?_

"What's eating you, Muffy?" asked George as he strolled by with a brownie.

Muffy sighed dejectedly. "I just don't get it, George. Why is life the way it is? Why do bad things have to happen to attractive people?"

"I dunno," said the moose boy with a shrug. "But if it'll help you feel better, I'll take you out to the Sugar Bowl after the party."

George's thoughtfulness brought a smile to Muffy's lips. "Thanks a lot…but I need to hold on to my allowance."

"I'll pay for it myself," George offered.

Something about the boy's sincere grin and shapely antlers made it impossible for Muffy to turn him down.

"Okay," she agreed.

* * *

to be continued 


	25. 172056146307

By Saturday morning, the excitement of the fund-raising party had given way to uncertainty and fear for those fated to confront the Brainchildren.

"Greta had better get here quickly," Francine grumbled. "If I have to wait much longer, my folks will come and drag me off to temple."

"Yeah," said Arthur, "and doesn't it take, like, four hours to drive to Springfield?"

As Mrs. Read laid bowls of oatmeal in front of the impatient, hungry kids, D.W. peeked through the kitchen window again. This time her vigilance was rewarded—a green Volkswagen Beetle pulled up to the curb, its driver's head barely visible.

"It's her," D.W. whispered to the others.

"It's who?" asked her mother.

"Never mind, Mom," said the little girl.

Arthur sniffed the air. "Is that burning socks I smell?"

"Are you sure?" said Mrs. Read. "I don't smell anything, but I'll check it out."

While she descended the stairway to the laundry room, Arthur, Francine, and D.W. slipped quietly out of the house. They found Greta at the steering wheel, her feet resting on the extended gas and brake pedals.

"Wow, Greta," D.W. marveled. "I didn't know you could drive."

"I'm 213 years old," the horse girl told her. "Now get in. We don't have much time."

D.W. occupied the passenger side seat, while Arthur and Francine belted themselves into the back seat. Without further hesitation, Greta hit the switch to roll down her window, then drove away.

Incredulous and afraid for their lives at first, Arthur and Francine soon accepted that Greta could indeed operate a car. "Aren't you afraid the police will pull you over because you look like a little girl?" said Francine.

"Yes," Greta replied. "That's why I chose a Beetle. It makes me look taller."

While they raced down the highway in the direction of Springfield, Lisa was offering a final moment of encouragement to her friend Alan.

"Try not to get hurt," she said, holding the boy's shoulders tightly. "I want to see you again after this is over."

"With any luck, you will," said Alan somberly.

"I wish I could come along, if only to watch," said Lisa. "But I know you won't let me, so…this is goodbye."

Her eyes seemed to glow as she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Alan's.

The kiss lasted only a second, but to Alan it seemed like an entire minute. "Th-thanks, Lisa," he said weakly. "I…I guess you can come, but you have to stay with the police."

"Thanks, Alan!" exclaimed Lisa, and she kissed him again, more firmly.

The honking of a horn was heard from the street. "There they are," said Alan. "It's time."

"Mom! Dad!" Lisa called out. "Alan and I are leaving in a police car."

"That's lovely, dear," said Marge from the kitchen.

"Quiet!" groused Homer. "TV."

Seeing that no one objected, the two kids left the house and boarded the squad car, which was driven by Chief Wiggum and co-piloted by his son, Ralph.

"Are you sure you want to be part of this?" Wiggum asked Lisa. "It may be dangerous, and you're not expendable."

"I'm not afraid," said Lisa. "Not when I'm surrounded by the finest cops Elwood City has to offer."

As Wiggum started down the street, he asked Alan, "Is it true that everybody in Elwood City has five fingers on each hand?"

Alan nodded.

"I think an extra finger on each hand would just get in the way," Wiggum remarked.

"Daddy, look," said Ralph, pointing at a green Volkswagen that had sped past them. "That little girl's driving."

"Yeah, you're right," said Wiggum in amazement. "And she's using her turn signals, too."

Upon arriving near the Springfield Heights Institute of Technology, Greta pulled the Beetle into a Taco Bell parking lot. "We wait here until noon," she declared.

"Taco Bell for our last meal?" said Arthur disappointedly. "Oh, Greta."

"Don't be so pessimistic," Greta scolded him. "The Brainchildren have no interest in you. They only want Alan."

"Can I punch one of them anyway?" asked Francine.

Unknown to them, a dozen Elwood City police officers were taking positions behind trees, bushes, and corners in the vicinity of the Rosen Science Building, in whose basement Frink's lab was located.

Lisa stood next to one of the cops, a rabbit man who kept his ears bound and hidden underneath his cap. "Now remember," the policeman warned her, "at the first sign of trouble, I want you to get the heck away from here, and don't look back."

Lisa nodded her assent. She observed that the police rabbit had a device resembling a black saucer attached to each side of his head. _I hope that'll be enough_, she thought.

While Greta, Arthur, Francine, and D.W. waited in the fast-food parking lot, a heavyset man with a ponytail waddled up to them and knocked on the car window. Curious, Greta rolled it down.

"Excuse me, young children," said the man peevishly. "You have parked too close to my vehicle, and I cannot get in."

Greta looked over at the beat-up sedan to her left, then back at the roly-poly man. "I'm sorry, sir," she said meekly. "I didn't think it was possible for a man to be so fat."

"Worst insult ever," grumbled the man, walking away with his armload of tacos.

Francine was the first to notice that Alan, his face downcast, was shuffling toward the entrance to the Rosen Building. "I see him!" she exclaimed, pointing.

"Wait for him to go inside," said Greta. "Then we'll jump out and run after him as fast as we can. The less time they have to detect us with their telepathy and enhanced senses, the better."

Seconds later, Lisa was astonished to see a band of four children hurrying past the line of concealed police officers. Upon closer examination, horror replaced her astonishment.

"Oh, my Buddha!" she cried. "I know those kids!"

"Not so loud, Lisa," the police rabbit cautioned her.

"They're friends of Alan," said Lisa earnestly. "They must be going in to rescue him. They don't know you have the place surrounded! I've got to warn them!"

"No!" said the cop, but by the time he stretched out his hand, Lisa had scampered away.

In the lowest floor of the Rosen Building, Greta was leading her companions through a hallway illuminated by flickering, buzzing ceiling lights. "According to my friend on the inside, Professor Frink's laboratory is just around this corner," she half-whispered.

"Who's your friend on the inside?" asked D.W.

"You'll see," said Greta, whose unicorn horn was waxing more solid.

The shouting of a little girl suddenly broke their silence. "Wait!" cried Lisa, running toward them. "It's not safe here!"

Arthur and Francine whirled. "It's Lisa Simpson," Arthur muttered.

"She works for Frink," said Francine. "Can we trust her?"

"Quiet, all of you!" Greta barked.

Hidden to their view, Alan stood before Professor Frink, who wore a triumphant grin.

"I'm here," said the boy, trying to sound brave. "What happens now?"

Frink merely snapped his fingers.

Alan felt his mind float away, caressed by peaceful thoughts of obeying Frink. He knew what was happening—it had happened to him before—but his strength to resist had already faded.

"Excellent," said Frink, stroking the glassy-eyed boy's head.

His will vanquished, Alan could only watch complacently as several young people stepped out of a hidden wing of the laboratory. His sister Tegan—C.V., the bringer of fear—Claire, the telekinetic French girl—Iris, the telepath—Victor, the boy with super senses—April, Sue Ellen's older twin from the future—and Fern, willing agent of the Brainchildren.

"The mind-control helmet placed a post-hypnotic suggestion in his brain," Frink explained to them. "I can turn him on and off at will. It should wear off in a year or two."

"He looks like a zombie," April remarked.

"You're not going to hurt him, are you?" said Fern anxiously.

"Glavins, no," answered Frink.

Smirking with glee, Claire examined Alan's motionless head from all angles. "I command you to kiss me," she said with an air of authority.

Before Alan could step forward and do the deed, Frink put out a hand to stop him. "This is not the time for jokes," he told Claire. "The time for jokes is between 11:15 and 11:45 p.m. on Thursdays, with the enthusiasm and the curbing."

"I don't like him this way," said Tegan, reaching for her barrette. "Let's get it over with."

"Tegan, wait!" said Frink loudly.

The eyes of all the Brainchildren turned to their mentor.

"Before you go postal on your brother's gray matter," said the scientist, "I want to explain to you all why I kept Alan hidden from you for a week."

"You can tell us when we're merged," said Tegan impatiently.

"Scanning Alan's brain gave me an idea for a new invention," Frink went on. "If it works according to specifications, and all my inventions do, it should magnify the powers of any Brainchild who wears it by a factor of ten thousand or more."

Shocked by his incredible claim, the Brainchildren watched Frink reach into a bureau and pull out a metallic helmet, similar in design to the scanning helmet he had used on Alan.

"Ten…_thousand_?" said C.V. in wonderment.

"I find that hard to believe," said Victor.

"Professor, you're talking about enough power to bring the whole city of Springfield to its knees," Tegan commented. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we're ready for that."

"Very well," said Frink, replacing the helmet. "If you're satisfied with bringing one little boy over to your side, then don't let me tempt you with a device that would enable you to transform the entire population of Springfield into Brainchild sympathizers."

Tegan watched the drawer close around the helmet. Her heart ached for its power. _Every man, woman, and child in Springfield, then Elwood City, clamoring for the liberation of all Brainchildren, everywhere…_

"Professor, wait!" she blurted out.

Only a few yards away from her, Greta and her crew arrived at the fortified steel entrance with Lisa in tow.

"It's Frink's lab, all right," said Francine sarcastically. "But it's protected by a door. We may as well turn back."

While Greta drew a small object from her pocket, the other kids began to examine the keypad attached to the wall on the right side of the lab door. "There must be hundreds of combinations!" D.W. marveled.

"Trillions," Greta corrected her. "But all we need is one, and I have it right here."

Arthur, Francine, D.W., and Lisa gaped. In the unicorn girl's palm sat a slip of paper, no bigger than a fortune cookie fortune, on which were printed the digits:

_172056146307_

"I'll punch it in," offered Lisa. With agile fingers she keyed the code, then pressed the Enter button.

Nothing happened.

"Try again, Lisa," said Greta.

Inside the laboratory, Victor cocked his ears. "Somebody's here," he stated.

"You're right," said Iris, pressing her hands to her temples. "I sense four thought patterns."

"But I hear five different voices," said Victor.

_She came_, thought Fern with relief.

"Whoever they are, they can't stop us now," said Frink, waving the newly invented helmet in front of Tegan's face. "You've always wanted this. Put it on, and become one with thousands of minds."

"It's risky," said Tegan nervously.

"Progress is always risky," said Frink.

Swallowing, Tegan reached out and pressed her fingers to the cold steel of the helmet…

"Uh, shouldn't we welcome our guests first?" Fern suggested.

"Don't you get it?" C.V. snapped at her. "They came with Alan, even though he said he'd come alone. They're not getting through that door."

"It must be the wrong code," said Lisa, pressing the Enter button for the third time with no result.

"Oh, my goodness," said Greta, gazing suspiciously at the paper in her hand. "Was she deceiving me all along?"

"We could try knocking," Arthur suggested.

"Yeah, right," said Francine mockingly. "'Can you come back in an hour? We're not finished torturing Alan yet.'"

"Let me see that paper," said Lisa, snatching the sheet from Greta.

It was all happening simultaneously—Lisa staring thoughtfully at the code; Arthur, Francine, and D.W. pressing Greta for guidance; Tegan slowly, reluctantly lowering Frink's helmet over her head.

"They're trying to get in with the phony access code," said Frink, listening to the faint beeps. "One of us must have leaked it to them."

"Don't look at _me_," said Fern.

"In a few seconds we will all be a part of the great collective," gloated Frink, rubbing his hands. "All secrets will be revealed. All misunderstandings will be swept away."

"I've got it!" exclaimed Lisa.

"What?" said Greta eagerly.

"If you look closely at this code," said Lisa, "you'll notice that the numbers zero through seven are there, but not eight or nine. Professor Frink does all his arithmetic in base eight, because he has four fingers on each hand. This code is a base eight number, and the real access code is…"

Before she could finish her analysis, a tremendous force swept through her mind, hijacking her thoughts to another plane. Her mouth still open, she stared at Greta with blank eyes.

The unicorn girl looked around at her comrades, every one of whom had become limp and motionless.

"Arthur? Francine? D.W.?"

The little aardvark girl didn't react. Her eyes seemed fixed on a beautiful, invisible ocean.

In the lab, Frink and the Brainchildren had assumed the same robotlike position. Tegan quivered slightly, her hands tightly grasping the helmet on her head.

In the Kwik-E-Mart, Snake the felon stood like a rock, aiming a pistol at the hapless, similarly frozen Apu.

Throughout the streets of Springfield cars slammed into each other, their drivers absorbed by Tegan's amplified will.

_Mind control_, thought Greta. _Whatever's happening in there, I have to stop it myself._

Remembering what Lisa had almost finished saying, she quickly computed the base-ten equivalent of the erroneous code in her head, then typed it on the keypad.

The huge metal door creaked and slid open.

Greta marched inside, her horn glowing brilliantly. She gasped at the sight of Fern with her jaw gaping open, showing no sign of independent thought. Glancing at the other statues, she surmised that Tegan's helmet was responsible for the mental barrage.

Tegan herself, noticing Greta's approach, slowly turned to her while lowering her arms. "Who are you?" she asked the unicorn girl. "Why aren't you affected?"

"My name is Greta von Horstein. I'm immune to telepathy. If you have any more questions, ask Fern."

Startled by the girl's boldness, Tegan focused her attention on Fern's thoughts and memories…

Reaching the end of the dark tunnel, Fern stopped herself at a ledge. The vista before her was unbelievable. A marble stairway led downward into a vast subterranean city, with towers and houses that resembled polished diamonds. An enormous glasslike panel attached to the ground above provided light to the metropolis.

"Welcome to Unicornutopia," said Greta to her friend. "Now that you've seen it, I may as well introduce you to my parents."

The von Horsteins treated Fern to a sumptuous breakfast, then listened eagerly to everything she had to share.

"You speak of gifted children who are hidden away by human society," said Mrs. von Horstein. "In the world of the unicorns we encourage the talents of our children. If the gifts of your so-called Brainchildren are not appreciated by their fellow humans, then they are welcome to come and dwell with us."

The unicorn woman's statement filled Fern with hope. _The Brainchildren living among the unicorn people? Why not? It's got to be better than hiding from the authorities._

Tegan, to her surprise, found the notion appealing.

Looking into the minds of Arthur, Francine, and D.W., she learned of their adventures before the Unicorn Council and during the time of Ragnarok, the end of the world according to unicorn lore.

_It's fantastic_, she thought. _I've got to let the other Brainchildren know._

She quickly lifted the helmet from her head, and replaced her barrette.

Fern shook her head, blinked, and smiled elatedly. Claire began to mutter to herself, "Unicorns…unicorns…_mon Dieu_."

"Sweet mother of glavin," said Frink reverently. "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy."

Fern stepped up to Tegan and passed her hand over the helmet, which now crackled with static electricity. "I may have your personality," she said quietly, "but that doesn't mean I have to go along with your plan—not when I've found a better alternative."

"I understand," said Tegan with a gentle smile.

"Wait, wait!" said Victor. "You're not seriously thinking of moving us all to Unicorn City."

"Why not?" C.V. responded. "I mean, did you _see_ that breakfast buffet?"

"Please consider it," Tegan urged her friends.

Everyone in the room—Frink, April, C.V., Claire, Iris, Victor, Tegan, Fern, Arthur, Francine, D.W., and Greta—fell into silent contemplation.

Then Claire spoke up. "I have considered," she said simply.

With a gesture of her finger, she caused the power-enhancing helmet to fly out of Tegan's hands and into her own. She wasted no time in clapping it onto her own head.

"What are you…" Frink began to say.

Her eyes lighting up sinisterly, Claire turned her gaze toward Greta. What happened next, happened so rapidly that the others were hardly aware of it.

The unicorn girl suddenly flew backwards at tremendous speed, smashing into the rear wall with the force of a bullet…

* * *

to be continued 


	26. The Last Barrier

"The Brainchildren do not share power with unicorns," said Claire coldly.

Greta's lifeless body, which had made a child-sized imprint in the concrete wall, slumped to the floor in a heap. Her eyes were fixed open, and her horn pointed upward at an odd angle. Her limbs were broken and twisted.

As the shock of her sudden death set in, the people in Frink's laboratory reacted in various ways. Some gasped in horror. April nearly fainted, and had to be propped up by the professor. Alan, for his part, gazed into space and expressed nothing.

"Greta! No!" shrieked D.W., racing to the side of her slain friend.

"Somebody call the police!" Arthur shouted.

"They're already here!" Lisa informed him.

"Don't just stand there!" Francine chided them both. "RUN!"

Before they could retreat, yet another atrocity was committed before their eyes.

Tegan, fully aware of what a telekinetic could do with the aid of the helmet, lunged forward, determined to tear it from Claire's head. The French girl merely waved her hand, and Tegan abruptly reversed direction, sailing across the lab and striking the back of her head against the edge of a metal table. The barrette, snapped in half, dropped to the floor at her side.

"No!" cried Claire in dismay. "I did not mean to kill you!"

Ashamed at what her careless use of force had done to her friend, she rushed over to Tegan and examined her for signs of life. Naturally, in Tegan's case, a "sign of life" would be the automatic activation of her mind-merging power. This had not happened.

Claire's concern for the fallen Tegan gave the others a chance to escape. Frink snapped his fingers in front of Alan's face, grabbed the awakening boy by the hand, and dragged him through the lab doorway. C.V., Iris, Victor, April, and Fern hurried away without bothering to see if anyone needed help, or even to watch where they were going.

This left only Arthur, Francine, D.W., and Lisa in the lab with Claire and her two victims.

"D.W., we've got to go!" Arthur urged his weeping sister.

"She's dead…she's dead…" sobbed the little aardvark girl, pressing her nose against Greta's cold, contorted chest.

"You can cry later," said Arthur, firmly grasping D.W.'s wrist.

"We've got to warn the police!" cried Lisa as she led Francine, Arthur, and the distraught, sniffling D.W. through the corridor to the Rosen Building's exit.

"You said the police were already here," said Francine.

"That's why we have to warn them," said Lisa, heaving open the glass doors. "It'll take more than a few cops to defeat the Brainchildren now."

"You're right," said Arthur. "We need the Army."

"Forget the Army," said Francine. "We need the Federation of Planets."

D.W., tears still running down her face, didn't say a word.

Taking the Elwood City officer's advice, Lisa didn't look back while running toward the spot where she had left him. To her relief, the rabbit policeman was rushing toward _her_, the barrel of his rifle pointed skyward.

"Don't go in there!" she shouted. "It's too dangerous!"

The officer's response surprised her. "Don't move!" he bellowed, sticking his weapon at Lisa and her companions. "Stay where you are!"

"It's okay," said Lisa reassuringly. "They're my friends. They're not Brainchildren."

"I said don't move!" barked the policeman. Arthur and Francine dutifully stuck up their hands, while D.W. wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"Listen to me!" Lisa pleaded. "You've got to get as far away as possible before all hell breaks…"

The Rosen Building exploded.

They weren't sure which came first—the deafening shock wave, the trembling of the ground, or the dust and rocks that cascaded down on their heads.

"Take cover!" cried Francine. Arthur, D.W., and Lisa raised their heads and saw large chunks of brick and concrete soaring through the sky. D.W. screamed with fright.

The flying debris also threatened Fern, April, and the Brainchildren, who had been accosted by other officers near the student union building. Guided by panic, they ran into the building's portico for shelter.

Once the children and officers had finished dodging the rain of stone, they looked toward the site where the Rosen Building had formerly stood. The sight they beheld was incredible—Claire was levitating into the air, her arms stretched out, the metal helmet on her head glowing with electricity.

"Take her down!" blared a voice on the rabbit policeman's walkie-talkie.

Seeing their chance to flee to safety, Arthur, D.W., Francine, and Lisa ran away from the scene as fast as their strength would allow. Rifle shots rang out behind them, but they refused to look over their shoulders.

One after another, the officers from both Springfield and Elwood City took aim at the hovering girl and fired. Not one of their shots took effect—the bullets simply slowed down and dropped into the ruins of the building.

The shooting tapered off and ceased. Arthur, thinking that the riflemen had either killed Claire or been killed by her, finally turned his head. He let out a gasp of horror.

The officers were still alive, but several of them were swirling in the air as if being swung on an invisible string. The unconcerned Claire floated above them, waving her hands and laughing. Bits of cement and plaster rose from the wrecked building and began to spin around, forming the outline of what appeared to be a whirlwind directly under the gloating girl.

"What is it?" said Francine, stopping to look behind her.

"Oh, my Buddha!" exclaimed Lisa. "She's creating a tornado!"

As the wind tossed Claire's hair around, she gazed down upon the campus buildings that she could demolish with a mere thought. _My friends have been arrested_, she thought, glaring at the policemen who were taking Fern, April, Victor, Iris, and C.V. away. _I'll rescue them later, after I've destroyed the silly children who arrived with the unicorn._

Lisa, D.W., Francine, and Arthur were alarmed to see the whirlwind moving, expanding, approaching them. They could almost make out the burning anger in Claire's eyes. "She's coming this way!" cried Arthur. "Run!"

They began to retreat again, but Francine knew it was in vain. "We can't outrun a tornado!" she said sagely.

"Leave me behind!" said D.W. "I'm slower than the rest of you!"

"No way!" retorted Arthur—but as the roaring winds hounded him, he began to realize that he had no other ideas for survival.

He looked desperately in all directions. Two buildings were nearby, but their walls were made up of windows, which would certainly shatter and shred everything in their range. The only other place that offered any hope was a construction site, where bulldozers, back hoes, and piles of rocks and dirt flanked an excavation.

The wind tore at the back of Arthur's shirt. He struggled to keep running, sure that the end of them all was near.

Then he had an idea.

"Over there!" he shouted to the others, pointing at the work site. "We'll take cover behind that pile of gravel!"

"Gravel?" said Francine incredulously. "That won't protect us!"

"I think it will," said Arthur. "Come on!"

They could hear and feel nothing but the wind as they trudged, Arthur pushing his sister along, toward the huge mound of rocks. They reached the other side just as their feet were starting to lose contact with the ground.

"We're all gonna die," D.W. moaned above the gale. "She killed Greta, and now she's after us. What did we ever do to her?"

"For once D.W.'s right," said Francine dolefully. "We _are_ all gonna die."

"Calm down!" Lisa urged her. "I know what Arthur's thinking!"

The pulling of the wind became almost unbearable, and then Claire appeared, towering above them, shrouded by a howling vortex of dust. They couldn't hear, but they could easily tell that she was laughing over their fate.

_Jesus, Buddha, Spongebob,_ Lisa prayed silently. _Please let this work…_

Their hopes began to fade as cracks appeared at the top of the pile of gravel—the last barrier was giving way.

The whirling funnel began to fill with gravel. The small rocks swept through it in a spiral pattern, rising ever higher. D.W. screamed as the irresistible winds lifted her up the slope of the gravel mound. Arthur tried to save her by grabbing her leg, but an instant later he, Francine, and Lisa were being yanked helplessly from the ground…

* * *

to be continued 


	27. Into the Vortex

The mighty gusts drove Lisa, D.W., Francine, and Arthur inexorably up the side of the hill of gravel. Lisa's dress and pearl necklace were blown upward, so that the rocks scratched her torso. _I hope I die quickly_, she thought, _not screaming in agony like the woman Moe landed on while attempting suicide_.

In the air above, Claire cackled and exulted in her unmatched power. _I am a leaf on the wind_, she flattered herself. _See how I_…

She didn't finish her thought, as a spinning shaft of gravel shot up at her, pelting every part of her body. She screamed in pain as hundreds of little rocks tore at her skin with their sharp edges. She tried to repel them with her magnified telekinetic powers, but the rocks were too many, and she was unable to concentrate.

Just as they knew they were doomed, Arthur, Francine, D.W., and Lisa felt themselves descending, then falling. They landed with a breathtaking thud on the top of the gravel mound. The shrieking winds died down, and were suddenly gone.

Claire, covered with lacerations and in a panicked state, plummeted to earth amidst a shower of rocks, dust, and plaster. She slammed feet-first into the opposite side of the pile of gravel from her intended victims, who were struggling to their feet and brushing off the debris that had rained down upon them.

"Is everyone okay?" Arthur asked Francine, D.W., and Lisa.

"I'm fine," Francine replied. "That was quick thinking, Arthur."

"You saved our lives!" gushed D.W., throwing her arms around her brother.

Lisa climbed up the gravel slope and looked over at Claire, who lay face-down, semi-conscious, and bleeding. Hearing a faint moan, she turned her face to the others and informed them, "She's alive!"

"Get the helmet!" Arthur ordered her.

Claire offered no resistance as Lisa pried Frink's helmet from her head. "What should we do with it?" she asked D.W., Francine, and Arthur.

"Give it to me," said D.W. "I'll keep it in my toy chest until it fits."

"Destroy it," Francine advised.

"Why?" Lisa asked her. "So the other Brainchildren won't be able to abuse its power?"

"No," was Francine's sarcastic reply. "I just like to destroy things."

"Here comes Professor Frink," said Arthur, observing that the professor and Alan were hurrying toward them. "He'll know what to do with it."

"Yeah, right," said Francine as she stepped to the bottom of the gravel pile. "Just like Dr. Frankenstein knew what to do with…_oh, good glavin!_"

Her exclamation attracted the gaze of Lisa, D.W., and Arthur. To their astonishment, lying in the rocks only inches from Claire's prostrate hand was a golden unicorn horn.

"What was she doing with Greta's horn?" wondered Francine, quickly bending over to pick up the object. "She couldn't have known about the wishes."

"I'm afraid everyone in Springfield knows about unicorn horns now, little primate girl," said Frink, who had stopped with Alan at the edge of the construction site.

"How…" Francine began to say, but the answer promptly occurred to her. "Oh, no," she realized in horror. "Tegan was mentally linked with the whole city when she looked into our minds and learned about the unicorns."

"That's not good at all," Lisa lamented. "Now _everybody_ will want a piece of the horn."

"That leaves only one option," said Frink, stepping toward Francine. "I must take the horn and conceal it within a safe deposit box whose location and combination are known only to me."

"Nice try, wisenheimer," said Francine, sticking the unicorn horn behind her back.

The group was then approached by Fern and April, who were panting slightly. "Is everybody all right?" Fern inquired.

"Everybody except Claire," D.W. replied. "She got what she deserved."

"The police let us go when they realized we weren't Brainchildren," April reported. "They're taking C.V., Iris, and Victor to the station in handcuffs."

"What about Tegan?" asked Alan.

The others exchanged blank stares and shrugged.

"She must've been in the Rosen Building when it blew up," said Alan hopelessly.

Frink and the kids followed him toward the site of the destruction, passing by several spots where police officers or bystanders were attempting to treat the dead and injured. "Greta's somewhere under all that junk," D.W. reflected sadly. "She didn't even get a proper unicorn burial."

"I don't see Tegan anywhere," said Arthur, glancing around with his hand above his eyes. "Maybe she's one of those people with blood all over their faces."

While they circled the ruins in search of Tegan, Francine debated with her young friends about how to best utilize the magic of Greta's horn. "One wish to make Van walk," she proposed. "One wish to turn Augusta Winslow back into a man. One wish to make Alan lose his memory-erasing powers."

"I've already lost them," Alan told her. "But you've got a good idea there. If C.V., Iris, and Victor use it to wish away their powers, they'll no longer be Brainchildren. They'll be free."

"They'll be long gone by the time we make up our minds," said Francine.

"What if they don't _want_ to lose their powers?" April suggested.

"And what's to stop them from wishing for even _more_ power?" Fern added.

"Plus, that wouldn't help the hundreds of other captive Brainchildren," said Frink.

"Look!" cried April. "Over there!"

She led the gang about one hundred yards from the scene of devastation, to a grassy patch within a grove of trees. There, Elwood City policewoman Pinsky was examining a teenage girl who lay cleanly on her back, her arms and legs perfectly straight.

"It's Tegan!" Alan exclaimed with joy.

"You know her?" said Pinsky.

"She's my sister," Alan informed her.

"You must be the mystery boy," said Pinsky with a grin. "Your parents miss you terribly, and they can't even remember you."

"How is she?" Alan inquired.

"Alive," Pinsky answered. "The only question is, _how_ alive."

Alan's heart drooped as he and his friends gazed down at the unconscious girl. The barrette that normally blocked her powers was missing from her head, yet Alan felt nothing of the familiar mind-merging sensation.

"She obviously wasn't thrown from the explosion," Pinsky mused. "It's as if somebody carefully laid her down here."

Alan turned to face Fern, and tears began to form in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" the poodle girl asked him.

"_Everything's_ wrong," said Alan miserably. "Scores of people are dead, my sister may never wake up, and you're stuck with her personality, because I can't erase it from your mind."

"It's okay," said Fern lackadaisically. "I've gotten used to it."

"The horn," said Alan, a glint of hope in his voice. "You could wish for Tegan to leave your head—to become just Fern again."

"We're getting along fine in here," said Fern, her tone suggesting that she had no interest in Alan's ideas.

As she watched the bear boy sulk, Lisa had a sudden brainstorm. "Alan! Maybe your powers aren't completely gone—maybe they're just weakened."

"Huh?" Alan grunted.

"Use Frink's helmet," the girl recommended.

"Hey, she's right," said Francine, who then tried to push the helmet into Alan's hands.

"Okay," said Alan, lifting the device onto his head. "I'll try anything."

A surge of energy passed between his temples, and he felt as though he could swallow the entire world. Fields of sagebrush and juniper leaped at his mind's eye until he had to push them back. He had never sensed such power within himself.

"Alan, wait!" Fern begged him. "What if Tegan never comes out of it? I'll be all that's left of her!"

For a moment Alan hesitated. _She could be right_, he thought.

Tegan's essence sat like a row of juniper in the endless sagebrush valley of Fern's mind, awaiting Alan's command to die and wither away. _She's my sister. If I do this, will I lose her forever?_

* * *

to be continued 


	28. Going Home

_There's nothing for it_, thought Alan, fighting back his emotions. _Fern shouldn't be forced to live someone else's life, even if that someone else is my sister._

"Goodbye," he said quietly, and deftly exorcised Tegan's presence from Fern's brain.

The poodle girl seemed on the verge of choking. "You okay?" April asked her.

"Don't touch me!" cried Fern, leaping backwards from the cat girl. D.W. had to jump aside to avoid being bowled over by her.

"Relax," said April. "I won't hurt you."

"What did you do to me?" said Fern accusingly. "You put something in my head…something that made me say and do strange things…"

"If it's any comfort," said April, "the person who did that to you is lying at our feet in a coma."

Fern looked down. A chill ran through her heart at the sight of the stricken girl's face. "I _know_ her," she marveled. "We've only just met, but…but I feel like she's a part of me."

"Welcome back, Fern," said Alan, grinning as he removed Frink's helmet from his head.

"I'll take that," said the professor, grabbing the device.

"You'll destroy it, won't you?" said Francine earnestly.

"As glavin is my witness," Frink replied. "This experience has taught me a lesson—the world isn't ready for a wholesale release of the Brainchildren. True, they haven't done anything wrong, but then again, neither has an undetonated land mine."

"But what about Victor?" said April. "He can see and hear a mile away, but he can't actually _hurt_ anyone with his powers."

"That's true," said Frink sheepishly. "I don't know what to tell you, April."

"So that's it," said the cat girl, her expression turning sullen. "You're turning your back on the Brainchildren."

Frink nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"How do you expect me to rescue my parents now?" April snapped at him.

"Well, seeing that they're in outer space," Frink replied, "you might start by joining an amateur rocketry club."

April turned around, closed her eyes tightly, and began to take deep breaths.

"That's twice now," Alan said to her in a gentle but scolding tone. "Every time you recruit someone with dangerous powers to save your parents, it ends in disaster. Don't you think it's time to give up?"

April only shook her head weakly. The hair puffs on the back of her head knocked together.

"You've been through a lot," Fern told her. "You thought your parents were killed, you went back in time to stop them from being killed, you thought they were killed _again_, you found out they were alive, and then, to top it all off, you learned they're really aliens. No one else in the world has had experiences like that. You need to take some time to rest and think things through."

April looked at her, misty-eyed. "Thanks for trying to help, Fern," she said with a slight smile.

Then, having nothing more to add, she swallowed and walked away.

"Maybe the third time will be the charm," said Alan facetiously.

Lisa and Professor Frink remained behind, tending to the victims of Claire's assault on the campus. Francine, keeping Greta's horn carefully hidden under her blouse, accompanied Arthur, D.W., Fern, and Alan in search of a payphone, hoping to call their parents and be whisked away to home and safety.

"Hey, Francine," said Arthur as they were approaching a row of phones in the student union building. "Is that a unicorn horn under your shirt, or are you just happy to see me?"

"One of these days, Arthur," snarled Francine, shaking a fist at the boy.

"Don't joke," D.W. mourned. "Greta's dead."

While Fern dialed her house, Arthur and Francine discussed the events of the day.

"The unicorns are gonna be really peeved with us," said Arthur. "Not only is Greta dead, but everyone in Springfield knows about their existence."

"You think they'll declare war on us?" said Francine anxiously.

"That would be scary," Arthur mused. "Being chased all over the neighborhood by two Sentinels was bad enough—but a whole army?"

Down the hallway shuffled a raggedly-dressed, unshaven man, whose eyes lit up when he saw the two kids. "You!" he cried out, limping toward them. "I saw you in my head! You're the ones with the magic wishing horn!"

"Uh-oh," said Francine under her breath.

"You gotta give me that horn," the homeless man pleaded. "Ol' Gil hasn't had a decent meal in days. I got fired from my job sellin' used tires, and when my wife found out, she kicked me outta the house. C'mon, you're all kids. You got years before you hafta make a livin' for yourselves. All I'm askin' is the same chance as every other American. That magic horn'll put ol' Gil back on his feet. C'mon, whattya say?"

"Uh, we don't know about any magic horn," said Francine nervously.

Arthur fished a quarter from his pocket. "Here you go, mister," he said, dropping the coin into Gil's palm. "Now please leave us alone."

The shabby man stared blankly at them. "I-I'm sorry," he spoke up. "I confused you for somebody else. I'll be on my way. Thank you, and God bless."

The four hours they spent waiting in Greta's Volkswagen were the tensest hours of their lives. Finally Mrs. Walters pulled up in her minivan, and the kids seated themselves for the journey back to Elwood City.

"I worried about you all the way here," Mrs. Walters told her daughter. "My little girl, in the midst of all those eight-fingered yellow people? You'll have to be punished, of course, but at the moment I'm just glad you're safe."

"I'm glad I'm safe too," was Fern's response.

"I understand your teacher invited some yellow people to speak to your class," Mrs. Walters went on. "If I have my way, that will never happen again."

"Er, Mrs. Walters…" Alan started to say.

"If God intended for people to be yellow, he would have made them _all_ yellow," declared the poodle woman.

Fern looked over at Alan and shrugged apologetically.

Seconds after the group had left the Taco Bell parking lot, a black limousine slowed to a stop in front of the fast-food outlet. The wizened, hawk-nosed old man in the back seat glared out the window at the Institute campus and the destroyed building.

"Smithers, did you get the license plate number of the horseless carriage that just left?" he asked the driver.

"Yes, Mr. Burns," the bespectacled man replied.

"Excellent," said Burns, tenting his fingers.

* * *

to be continued 


	29. Wishful Thinking

Several awkward reunions took place in Elwood City that afternoon.

The first thing Mrs. Read noticed when Arthur and D.W. walked into the house was D.W.'s long, long face. "What's the matter, honey?" she inquired. "And where have you been all day?"

"At Grandma Thora's," Arthur lied.

"Greta's dead," D.W. moaned.

"Uh, Greta is the name of Grandma Thora's clownfish," Arthur lied again.

"I didn't know Thora had a clownfish," said Mrs. Read.

"She bought him yesterday," Arthur continued to lie.

"Him?" marveled his mother. "You said the fish's name was Greta."

"Uh, he was female when she bought him," said Arthur.

"That's a good story," said Mrs. Read, hands on hips, "but it's not the truth."

"We saved Alan from a fate worse than death, we watched a building blow up, and we were carried away by a tornado," said Arthur.

"I'm still waiting," said his mother sternly.

Arthur sighed and looked at the floor. "We went to the junkyard, tried to make a fortress with some old chunks of plywood, got lost, and had to ask a policeman to show us the way home."

"I've told you again and again to stay away from the junkyard," Mrs. Read scolded them. "Now go to your rooms, both of you."

Arthur felt oddly relieved as he climbed the staircase to his bedroom. Once inside, he threw himself backwards onto the bed and proceeded to take a nap with his glasses on.

D.W., having closed the door to her room, sank to her knees in front of the bed and started to weep. "Oh, Greta…I miss you so much…"

* * *

Francine, figuring that waiting another hour to go home wouldn't kill her parents from worry, took horn in hand and marched down the steps to Augusta Winslow's first-floor apartment. She rang the doorbell, waited half a minute, and saw a rabbit woman with red, soggy eyes in the doorway.

"Your mother's been looking for you," said Augusta in a trembling voice.

"Omigosh," Francine exclaimed. "You've been crying. What's wrong?"

Augusta held back tears as she gestured for the girl to enter. "I can't believe I was so foolish," she said miserably, wiping her nose with a handkerchief. "I wish I could go back in time and stop myself."

Afraid that Augusta might grab the unicorn horn and do something rash, Francine cautiously slipped it into her back pocket.

"What did you do that was so bad?" she asked the distraught woman.

"I took the love potion this morning," replied Augusta, patting the tears from her cheeks. "I fell head over heels for Bailey, but he didn't return my love. He treated me like a dog! You should have heard the things he called me!"

"Like what?"

"Let's just say, he referred to a certain line of work."

Knowing nothing better to do, Francine put her arms around Augusta's slender waist and rested her head against the woman's belly.

"Being a woman isn't worse than being a man," said Augusta plaintively, "but being a woman with a broken heart is worse than _anything_." Francine felt a drop of water fall onto her scalp. "How I wish I could forget my love for him. How I wish I were _dead_."

Francine grimaced.

"What's that you have in your pocket?" asked Augusta, curiously fondling the exposed point of the unicorn horn.

"Uh, I really need to go," said Francine, hastily backing away. "I'll come back later."

* * *

Alan's reunion with his parents was the most awkward of all.

"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry for running away," he said meekly.

"That's all right, Alan," said Mr. Powers. "I suppose we should punish you, but we don't know which punishments are effective in your case."

"I don't know how we lost our memories of you," said Mrs. Powers sweetly. "But there's nothing to stop us from making some _new_ memories."

"Yeah," said Alan, grinning. "By the way, there's this movie I've wanted to see for a long time, but you keep telling me no."

Mrs. Powers turned to her husband. "Are we really that strict?" she wondered.

"There's one matter we should attend to first," said Mr. Powers seriously. "Your sister, Tegan—do you know where she is?"

Alan lowered his face. "I…I last saw her at Springfield Tech at about noon, near where the building blew up. She was injured. I think she's in a coma."

His parents gaped at the news.

"I imagine they took her to a hospital," Alan went on.

"Please, God, let her be in Shelbyville," his father muttered.

* * *

The moment Mrs. Walters' minivan pulled into the garage, Buster came running to greet it. "Fern, you're back!" he cried to the poodle girl as she was disembarking. "I was afraid something had happened to you!"

"Hi, Buster," said Fern sheepishly.

The rabbit boy lunged forward to plant a kiss on her lips. She stepped away, her eyes widening.

"What's the matter?" Buster asked her.

Fern didn't speak. Dozens of conflicting emotions paraded through her Tegan-free mind.

"It's my breath, isn't it?" said Buster with concern. "Sorry about that. You know I can't eat just one anchovy."

He started to walk away, but a girl's quivering voice called him back. "Buster…"

The instant he turned around, Fern flew into his arms and pressed her lips to his.

* * *

After Arthur was released from his room, he met up with Francine, who was on her way to the Cooper home.

"You'll attract a lot of attention if you do this," he warned the girl.

"I hate to think that Greta died for nothing," said Francine somberly. "At least three people's lives are gonna be better because of her sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" said Arthur, puzzled. "When did her death turn into a sacrifice?"

"Hey, _your_ people did the same thing with Jesus," was Francine's response.

Most of the Coopers were in the house lounging about when Arthur and Francine arrived. "Hey, Van!" called Odette, who was knitting a baby sweater for Megan. "Your friends from school are here."

The duck boy turned his face away from the TV. "Hey, guys," he said pleasantly. "Have you seen the news? A building blew up at Springfield Tech. The police are calling it a terrorist act."

"That's what we call it too," said Arthur.

Francine held the shining unicorn horn in front of Van's face. "What's that thing?" the boy inquired.

"A friend left it with me before she died," Francine replied. "It has magical wishing powers."

"If you could have any wish," Arthur asked Van, "what would it be?"

The boy in the wheelchair began to think. "Hmm…I have pretty much everything I need. Although it'd be nice if I didn't get sick so often. Or if I had a bigger beak. The beak I have sorta makes me look like a girl."

"I have an idea," said Francine with a smile. "What if you could walk?"

Van grinned. "That would be _so_ awesome."

"Here, then," said Francine, passing him the horn. "Hold it up and make the wish."

As he slowly lifted the unicorn horn above his head, Van narrowed his eyes and scowled slightly. "Walking's for chumps," he declared, and then his lips curled upward. "I wish I could _fly!_"

* * *

to be continued 


	30. Muffy's New Ride

"Aaaargh!" cried Van, pain suddenly wracking his body.

His agonized outburst led Odette, Dallin, Logan, and his mother to rush to his side. "Where does it hurt, sweetie?" inquired Mrs. Cooper.

"My back…my back…" Van moaned through gritted teeth.

The duck woman quickly laid her hands over Van's hunched back, hoping to locate the cause of his pain. To her astonishment and terror, the flesh was swelling at an alarming rate near his shoulder blades. "Call 911!" Mrs. Cooper shouted to her other children.

"It hurts," said Van, gripping the unicorn horn as if it were a bullet between his teeth. "I wish it would stop!"

Mrs. Cooper felt something soft, almost like a pair of down pillows, underneath her son's shirt—and then the swelling began to subside. Van let out a gasp of relief.

"I-I'm okay," he said to Odette, who had picked up the phone. "D-don't call an ambulance."

"I've never seen anything like that happen to you before," said Mrs. Cooper as she watched the twin lumps on Van's back disappear. "I'm taking you to the emergency room right now."

"We'd like to get our horn back first," said Francine.

With Greta's horn in her rear pocket, she accompanied Arthur to the sidewalk. "Stupid Van," she grumbled. "Now there's only one wish left."

"I wish I could see without glasses," said Arthur.

"You're lucky you can see at all," Francine chided him.

Then she and Arthur exchanged looks of sudden realization. "Marina!" they exclaimed in unison.

* * *

"There's no such thing as magic," insisted the blind rabbit girl. 

"Humor me," said Francine as she tried to force the unicorn horn into Marina's hands.

"Humor _yourself_," the acerbic girl retorted. "This is some kind of Halloween prank, and I'm not falling for it."

Marina's stubborn refusal to take the horn prompted Arthur and Francine to beat a retreat from the Messersmith home.

Prunella, seated next to Marina on the couch, clicked the Mute button on the TV remote. Hoprah Linseed's voice became audible again.

Marina turned to her friend. "I didn't mean it when I said there's no such thing as magic," she said apologetically.

"I forgive you," said Prunella glibly.

Not long afterward, another visitor entered through the screen door—April Murphy, still clad in the same green dress she had worn at Springfield Tech.

"Hi, April," Prunella greeted her. "Or should I call you Sue Ellen?"

"That ship has sailed," was April's response.

She stood directly in front of the rat girl, and they locked eyes.

"I want to be with my real parents," she stated. "I don't care if it means never seeing Earth again."

"Huh?" said Prunella.

"You know where I live," April went on. "Come and get me."

With that, she turned on her heel and left.

"What was _that_ about?" asked Marina.

"Heck if I know," said Prunella, shrugging.

* * *

In the former bank lot where Fern had discovered the passage to Unicornutopia, several dozen men and women with yellow skin and four-fingered hands were digging relentlessly, filling the field with mounds of dirt. 

_I donna care about magic wishin' unicorn horns_, thought a shaggy-faced Scotsman as he stuck in his shovel. _But I must find the unicorns, 'cause they alone 'ave the secret of the leprechauns. Soon their pot o' gold'll belong to Willie!_

Past the scene rolled a yellow Mitsubishi, driven by used car magnate Ed Crosswire.

"Dad, what are those people doing?" Muffy asked her father from the passenger seat.

"I don't know, Muffin," Mr. Crosswire answered. "Maybe they're Habitat for Humanity volunteers from Springfield."

Onto the vacant lot strolled a fearsome-looking Italian-American man, flanked by two dark-suited, scowling companions. "Listen up, youse," he bellowed at the sweaty diggers. "This piece of land is now the property of the Springfield Mafia, bought and paid for fairly and squarely with my own laundered drug money. So take your shovels and vamoose before I have you forcibly ejected, capisce?"

Not one person present dared stand up to Fat Tony and his goons. Rather than take their shovels and run, they all dropped their shovels and ran.

Muffy and her father drove on in silence. Muffy was too excited about purchasing a new limousine to speak, and Mr. Crosswire was readying himself to drop a bombshell on his daughter.

"Muffin, I have a confession to make," he began. "The car you're riding in right now—I didn't rent it. I bought it."

Muffy gasped in disbelief.

"I wanted so badly for you to have a fancy-schmancy new limo," the man continued. "I tried really hard to put the money together, but with all the payments we have to make, and the slump in the car business, I just couldn't find the sum."

The monkey girl looked at her feet and sighed. "I understand, Dad."

"Try not to be upset, dear," Mr. Crosswire went on. "Six months to a year from now the insurance company will reimburse me for the old limo, and then I'll…"

"I said, I understand," said Muffy with more firmness.

Mr. Crosswire looked over his shoulder to make sure it was really his daughter speaking. By the time he faced ahead again, he had almost collided with an old woman in the crosswalk.

"This car's okay," said Muffy. "Honestly, it is. I'd rather we have this car and other nice things, than have a new limo, and default on our condo payments, and be thrown out on the street, and have to beg for food, and wear denim."

Mr. Crosswire sighed, glad that his daughter had accepted the new order of things so readily.

"To make it up to me," Muffy suddenly said, "you have to take me out for ice cream every day for a year."

Mr. Crosswire smiled. "You got it, Muffin."

* * *

The next morning, in the bedroom she shared with April, Sue Ellen awoke from a pleasing dream about bungee jumping from the Great Wall of China. 

"Hey, April," she whispered. "Wanna know what I dreamed about?"

"April?"

* * *

"No, I haven't seen your, er, sister," said Francine. "But with the way people have been disappearing and appearing lately, I wouldn't get my scrunchies in a knot." 

After Sue Ellen had left her doorstep, Francine grabbed the unicorn horn out of her desk drawer and took it with her down the stairway of the apartment building. She rang the bell at Augusta's, hoping to find the woman in better spirits.

Augusta's nose was a bit rough and red, but other than that, she seemed well. "Come in, Francine."

She apologized profusely as the girl made herself at home. "I'm sorry for being such a basket case yesterday. I will never, _ever_ play with love potions again. The whole idea was so illogical—but I guess that comes with being female."

Francine reached for the horn in her back pocket; she had to struggle to move it, as the point had become caught in the fabric of the couch.

"Would you like something to eat?" Augusta asked her.

"Would you like to be a man again?" said Francine, waving the horn triumphantly.

"Ask me again after I've had a baby," was Augusta's reply.

"I'm serious," Francine told her. "This is a magical unicorn horn, and it will grant you any wish."

Intrigued by the horn's appearance and sheen, Augusta reached out and plucked it from Francine's fingers. "Fascinating," she marveled. "Where did you get this?"

"From a unicorn," said Francine poignantly. "She…she was my friend."

Augusta sat down in front of her desk, opened a drawer, and drew out a transparent crystal in a golden frame. As she scrutinized Greta's horn through the device, her eyes grew wider and wider. "This is the real deal," she remarked.

"It's yours," Francine offered. "Keep it."

Augusta grinned widely. "Thank you, Francine. I'll get something nice for you someday."

"I've got to go," said Francine, confident that she didn't need to explain the operation of the horn to an expert alchemist.

"Wait," Augusta called after her. "What day is your birthday?"

The girl was gone, and the door closed. Augusta picked up the unicorn horn and caressed it with her fingers.

_I could be Angus again_, she thought. _No more makeup, no more cramps, no more having to sit down._

_Or…I could be a witch again._

She smiled, exposing her pearl-white teeth.

_I don't know which I miss more—being a man, or having witch powers._

* * *

to be continued


	31. Labor Day

On a bed in Springfield Memorial Hospital lay Tegan, her eyes firmly closed, her body motionless. A pair of electrodes attached to her temples led to an encephalograph, which measured what little remained of her brain activity.

The clock on the wall showed a time of 3 p.m. as resident physician Julius Hibbert welcomed Tegan's family into the hospital room. Her parents appeared terribly worried, her younger brother Alan even more so—his pale, glum expression hinted that he had stepped into the future and watched her die.

"Has she shown any improvement at all?" Mrs. Powers asked the doctor.

"She smells a lot better since the nurses gave her a sponge bath," replied Dr. Hibbert. "Heh heh heh heh heh."

Tegan's father simply grasped the sleeping girl's wrist and squeezed gently. "I don't know if you can feel this," he half-whispered. "I don't know if you can hear me. If it helps you wake up faster, I'll come here every day and hold your hand and talk to you. If you're not all there when you wake up, that's all right—we'll muddle through. I don't know who took away our memories, but that's not important now, because we're together again."

Tegan breathed shallowly.

* * *

In Elwood City, D.W. was sharing with her best friend, Nadine, her fond memories of Greta and the adventures they had enjoyed.

"I don't get it," said Nadine. "If she was a unicorn, why didn't she walk on all fours, and have a tail, and stuff?"

"She wasn't _that_ kind of unicorn," D.W. explained to her friend. "She was like you and me, except she had a horn stuck in her head. When I turned into a unicorn, I had a horn too."

"What's that like?" Nadine wondered.

"It was kinda cool. If I wished hard enough I could make my horn disappear, or even come off. If you find a unicorn horn, you get three wishes."

"Cool," said Nadine, brushing her stringy white hair from her face.

"If you had three wishes," D.W. asked her, "what would you wish for?"

"Three cupcakes," replied Nadine without hesitation. "Or maybe two cupcakes and two cream puffs."

Maria Harris lovingly watched the two girls as they sat on the bedroom floor, lazily walking their cowgirl toys. "I'll tell you what I'd wish for if I had wishes," she said to Nadine.

"What?" asked her daughter.

"Three more little girls just like you."

D.W. and Nadine giggled. Maria, hearing a knock at the door, spun around.

A rabbit woman with flowing blond hair stood in the doorway—it was her good friend, Augusta Winslow.

"How are you, Augusta?" she asked with delight.

The woman had put on a casual pantsuit, but her face indicated that she had serious business to discuss. "Walk with me, Maria."

The October sun warmed the two ladies as they strolled along the sidewalk and talked in hushed tones.

"I'm going to ask you something," said Augusta, "and I want an honest answer."

"Go ahead," said Maria.

Augusta swallowed. A sparrow flew past her head.

"Are you still in love with Angus?"

The question startled Maria to the point that her lower lip quivered.

"I'm sorry to put you on the spot like this," said Augusta, "but it's important that I know."

"Angus is gone," said Maria quietly. "At first I didn't want to date other men, because I knew they wouldn't measure up to you…I mean, _him_. But when I saw that you were adjusting well to the change, and that you were determined to get over Rick and find someone new, I felt…I felt we'd both be happier if we bottled up our feelings and moved on."

"What if Angus were here, right now, standing in front of you?" said Augusta, stopping at a street corner.

Maria chuckled. "That would be different, of course. But we both know that's…"

With a dramatic wave of her hand, Augusta produced a golden unicorn horn from her pocket.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Maria, gazing curiously at the object. "Nadine would love a toy like that. The point's not too sharp, is it?"

"It's not a toy," Augusta told her. "It's the genuine item, and as far as I can tell from examining it, it's good for one more wish."

Maria laughed again. "You sound just like D.W., going on and on about unicorns and wishes."

"I'm not joking," said Augusta, her voice shaking slightly. "With the magic in this horn, I could be a man again." She looked down at the cement. "The problem is, I'm not sure if that's what I want."

Maria smiled tenderly.

"Maybe it's the female hormones talking," Augusta admitted. "Maybe if I was a man, I wouldn't feel this way at all. Oh, Maria…" She shook her head, and the unicorn horn drooped in her hand. "Deep in my heart, I don't wish to be a man—I wish to have a little baby girl, one with witch powers."

"Wouldn't that be sweet," said Maria wistfully.

Augusta suddenly gasped, dropped the horn, and clutched her solar plexus. "What's the matter?" Maria asked her with concern.

"I…I've got this strange feeling," stammered Augusta as her body started to quake. "Like…like something's inside my body that wasn't there before."

The next thing she felt was her waist straining against her increasingly tight, uncomfortable slacks.

"Look at you," said Maria in unbelieving wonderment. "You're…getting…_bigger_…"

"Oh, my God," panted Augusta as her knees weakened. "Maria, help me out of my pants, _quickly!_"

By the time she was naked from the hips down, her belly had swollen enormously. Maria carefully lowered her onto the sidewalk, supporting her heaving back all the way.

"Get…help," mumbled the panicked rabbit woman, her breaths coming faster and faster. "I'm…I'm going…into labor."

* * *

To be continued in Arthur Goes Fifth VI 


End file.
